


The Solution

by RosYourBoat



Category: The Sixth Sense (1999)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Horror, Mild Gore, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 23:41:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4644414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosYourBoat/pseuds/RosYourBoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven years after the events of The Sixth Sense, Cole has moved to a quiet little town in Nowhereville with his mom. Even though he's about to start his senior year of high school, normal teenage concerns like romance, dances, and hijinks with best friends are the last thing on his mind. Ever since he was given The Solution, his time has been filled with the previous lives of the dead, helping them find peace in the afterlife. He had thought that life would slow down in this sleepy no-name town, but he's beginning to realize that there is more to Oakridge than meets the eye.</p><p>This fic is unfinished, and will remain so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my recent excavation and expunction of all of my old fics from my hard drive to an online form, where they can be held as an indelible and inescapable memento of my past obsessions. These fics are all unbeta'd and heretofore unseen by anyone but me. I hope someone else feels some of the enjoyment I received from writing them.
> 
> "The Solution" was written in October of 2007, and will remain unfinished. There is a very brief, inexplicit mention of rape.

    On a hot July day, with the sun beating down, the children playing, and the people in a brighter mood, you would think that the small suburban city of Oakridge was the perfect place for a single mother and her seventeen-year-old son to live if they wanted to get away from their problems for a while. And normally, you would be perfectly correct.  
  
    Unfortunately, Cole Sear was not anything near normal.  
  
    His mother, Lynn Sear, had decided to move to this quietly growing city in order to enjoy the comforts of modern life while simultaneously escaping the overcrowded, dangerous streets of the big city where they had lived until Cole was eleven. At that point, Cole's gift, or rather curse, had made it too difficult for them to live in such a place anymore. She chose their small house in Oakridge specifically because Oakridge used to be a small farming community with little crime, high employment rates, and friendly people. It was such a good opportunity, in fact, that the only reason that they had waited so long to move was because Lynn had had to work hard to save up the money. Now, two years later, they were living, mostly content, in a cozy, brand-new three-bedroom home not far from the high school where Cole would be entering the twelfth grade in only a few short months.   
  
    This is not where Cole's story began, but it is where it continues.  
    

* * *

  
    "Cole! Do you remember where I left my little black dress? It's not in the dryer-" Abruptly cutting herself off, the attractive thirty-something red head paused in the doorway to her bedroom, where she was going to search fruitlessly for her favorite dress once more even though she had already checked her closet twice. "Oh..." she said, deflated, when she saw the dress laid out neatly on her bed with the heels and shawl that went with it. Her son was sitting in the small armchair in the corner of the room. "Well, this is certainly a familiar sight. I don't know why I even bother searching for that dress anymore when you always get it ready for me." Lynn smiled gratefully, snatching up the dress and dashing into the bathroom.  
  
    Cole smiled faintly and glanced back down at the crossword puzzle he had nearly completed. It was indeed a familiar routine that they had gone through every time that Lynn managed to find herself a date, which was surprisingly often. They had learned to appreciate routines and rely on them when things somehow happened to go wrong in their daily life. Of course, those disruptions didn't occur nearly as often as they did in the big city, but it was often enough that they still kept their guard up and used the little code they had established when he was ten to indicate when something was happening.  
  
    A faint humming - Frank Sinatra's "Under My Skin" - drifted from the bathroom and Cole smiled again, shaking himself from his dark thoughts and picking up his crossword puzzle to take into the living room. Dropping gracefully onto the soft couch, he gnawed on the end of his pen as he tried to remember the origins of the mythical underworld Elysium. _Was it Greek or Egyptian?  
  
_     "Alright, I'm ready!" His mother said breathlessly as she hurried into the living room self-consciously adjusting her silver necklace. "How do I look?" Cole rolled his eyes. She did this every time.  
  
    "You look fine, mom." He said tonelessly. "Really, you'll knock his socks off."  
  
    "Alright, good, that's great. Good, great." Lynn puffed to calm her nerves. She had gone on dozens of dates like this, but she couldn't help it if she felt like a giddy schoolgirl every time she did. Glancing over at her son, however, her eyes softened and she smiled. "You don't know how grateful I am for your support, Cole. I'd be lost without you."  
  
    Sensing a touching moment coming up, Cole just smiled awkwardly. "Don't worry about it. You've supported me through everything else... it's the least I can do. By the way, it's nearly eight. The taxi's been here for ten minutes."  
  
    "Oh no!" Lynn shrieked, hurriedly pulling her shawl on and clutching her little handbag before giving him a sloppy peck on the head and heading for the door. "I'm going to be late! I have my cell phone, you know when to call. If anything happens, I'm at the _Kincaid_ _Restaurant,_ okay? Bye, hun!"  
  
    The next second, she was gone. Exhaling a quiet chuckle, Cole put his crossword down and stretched languidly over the arm of the couch. His body was slender and lean, having grown out of his baby fat years ago, but still keeping his slight frame and just below average height. His hair was a rich golden-brown and his eyes were a dark blue, perfectly accenting his slender face and thin nose. His mother told him that he took after his father except for his eyes, but since Cole hadn't seen his father in years, he couldn't really compare himself to anything.  
  
    Settling back into the cushions for what was looking to be a long night, Cole reached for the remote on the coffee table and switched on the TV. Some hours later, still in the middle of the CSI marathon playing on the TV, he broke for the commercials and padded to the restroom. After doing his business, he glanced over at the commercials that were still playing before he went to the kitchen to grab something to snack on. Opening the freezer to see if there was anything he could heat up in the microwave, he shivered in the blast of cold air. There was nothing. Grumbling, he shut the freezer door and opened the fridge, immediately spotting a can of soda that he quickly snatched up. He didn't notice that even though the freezer was shut, the air was still frigid.  
  
    Cole popped the tab of the drink and took a swig, swinging the fridge shut as he did so. Turning around, he nearly crashed into the tall old man that was standing next to the counter looking bewildered. The soda dropped from Cole's hand and sprayed the sticky substance everywhere as it hit the floor, though he hardly noticed. Coughing hard several times to clear the soda that he had nearly choked on, Cole stumbled away from the man, startled.  
  
    "Oh my," mumbled the old man, absent-mindedly fiddling with the cuff of his tweed jacket as he peered around him. "Well, this isn't right. I should be in the lab."   
  
    Cole eyed the man critically with an expert but wary gaze. Sometimes he thought that he would never get used to people appearing suddenly where he was, but he had to admit that it was becoming easier to adjust. After a moment, he knew that this old man was virtually harmless, merely confused and probably senile when he died.  
  
    He knew that the man was certainly dead. After all, no one could survive with a hole that big blown through their stomach, and they wouldn't be simply confused if they had their skin burned that badly. This was the reason why they moved away from the big cities where people died everyday in car accidents or drug overdoses. This was the reason why Cole was so special. He could see the people that walked the Earth after their death, the people that still lingered because they had unfinished business with the living.   
  
    Of course, Cole wouldn't have been nearly this calm when he was younger, when he still hadn't understood why the dead seek after him. It had taken time and the help of the man who had told him The Solution before Cole had accepted that he was meant to help these dead find their peace. All he had to do was show them that he wanted to help, listen to them, and help them as much as he could. It wasn't always easy; he had seen enough death and horror to last him several lifetimes, and nightmares haunted him occasionally... and then there were those times when the ghosts were angry or distressed after being ignored for so long. These ghosts tended to blame their problems on him since he was the only one that acknowledged them and they often needed proof that he was willing to help them before they became more reasonable and told him their message. The "proof", more often than not, involved the ghost hurting him.  
  
    However, Cole could see that this man was merely confused and harmless. In this relatively small and peaceful city, Cole had encountered only a few ghosts, and the ones he had met he had already helped or were currently helping. But he had never seen this man before. _Maybe he had died very recently? He_ is _quite old, but those wounds don't make it look like he passed peacefully in his sleep.  
  
    _Keeping his eyes away from the man's wounds, both to be polite and to make sure that he wouldn't get ill or get nightmares, Cole finally spoke in a slightly shaky, but respectful tone. "Sir? Sir, how can I help you?"  
  
    The man looked slightly startled, as if he had forgotten Cole was there. He peered through thin spectacles at the young man, sniffing. "Eh? Is that you, Lowenger? Coming to make up that test you missed, have you? Well, here you are, sit down and finish it." The old man seemed to have forgotten that he was in a stranger's house and as he spoke, he reached into his left pocket - most of his right half was gone - and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper and a pencil, handing it to Cole. Wordlessly, the boy took it and glanced over it before setting it down on the counter. It looked like a chemistry quiz.  
  
    "Well, now," the old man continued, seeming to forget the "student" he had been talking to, "something's not right here. Thermite isn't meant to be explosive, especially in that state. The children always love the thermite lab and all I have to do is test it before the first day of school. But there was an explosion, wasn't there? That's not right, that's not right at all. Thermite's not explosive." The old man - a chemistry teacher, from what Cole could guess - was becoming more agitated, shaking his head from side to side and not noticing the cracked and burnt skin that broke off as he did so.   
  
    "Uh, sir, how can I help you?" Cole tried again, trying to calm him down. The old man seemed to stare straight at him this time, his pale blue eyes boring into Cole's head.  
  
    "Thermite is not explosive." He stated clearly, as stern as if Cole was one of his students. "It shouldn't have exploded. Something isn't right."  
  
    "All right, sir, I'll check that out for you," Cole said solemnly, but inwardly he was grateful. It appeared as if the old man just wanted to know how he had died. "When I find out how your experiment exploded, I'll tell you and your family."   
  
    The old man seemed to relax at this, smiling at Cole and shaking his head. "Well, that's very nice of you, Lowenger, but I'm afraid I don't have much family left. Still, it would be nice to tell dear Martha that I love her again..." He trailed off, looking wistful. Cole was startled by the front door opening and he took a step back, feeling his foot peel off the soda-covered floor as he did so. Glancing back at the old man, he was not surprised to see the room empty.  
  
    Cole took a moment to ponder the old man's message and commit everything to memory before he sighed and grabbed a dishtowel from the sink to run under warm water. The room's temperature was just returning to normal and it was still chilly. As he cleaned up the spilled soda from the floor, he heard his mother laugh flirtatiously and rolled his eyes, making a disgusted face. The man, Mr. Finn, had probably given her a ride home, which meant that the date had probably gone well, but not well enough that his mom would be spending the night at his place. Cole shuddered at the thought and scrubbed harder at the floor.  
  
    He had just finished cleaning the cupboards when his mother entered the room, a shorter but handsome man with blond hair and brown eyes following after her. _Mr. Finn.  
  
_     "Cole, I'd like you to meet someone," Lynn said brightly, though confused at why he was on the floor. Cole quickly scrambled up and dumped the rag into the sink, wiping his hand on a spare dishtowel and shaking the man's hand with a polite smile. He was always somewhat wary of the men that his mother dated since they never seemed to last long, but he always made it a point to be polite to them. Just in case.  
  
    "It's nice to meet you, I'm Frank Finn," the man said. He seemed friendly enough.  
  
    "I'm Cole, nice to meet you," Cole replied, smiling.  
  
    "What happened?" Lynn said, a faintly alarmed look crossing over her face as she rubbed her arms. "It's freezing in here!"  
  
    "I think the heater went out, but I didn't really notice it until now." His mother looked relieved. It was their age-old excuse whenever something like this happened, and Lynn recognized the true meaning of the words. Cole gave an embarrassed smile, scratching the back of his neck. "And, uh, I might have dropped a can of soda on the ground. But I cleaned it up!" He added quickly, when her lips thinned and Frank Finn laughed.   
  
    “We’ll talk about that later. Frank, would you like to stay for a drink?"  
  
    "I would love to, but I'm afraid I've gotta run," Frank Finn replied with what seemed like actual regret. "Any more drinks tonight and I might not be able to drive home." He waggled his eyebrows and Lynn giggled at the double meaning. Cole grimaced and rolled his eyes, gagging mentally. He ignored them as he washed out the soaked rag in the sink and they soon wandered back to the front door talking quietly. A moment later, Cole heard Frank Finn call out a goodbye and he shouted back, "Goodbye, it was nice to meet you!"  
  
    The door closed and Lynn was soon hurrying back to the kitchen.   
  
    "What happened? Did they hurt you? What did they say?" She asked anxiously, raking over him with her eyes to see if he had been injured. Cole shook his head and hastened to reassure her.  
  
    "Don't worry, mom, it was fine. It was just an old man - a chemistry teacher at the high school, I think - and he was just really confused and wanted to know how he died. I'm pretty sure he was senile, he kept thinking I was one of his old students and he gave me a quiz to finish." Cole laughed softly, which seemed to make his mom relax more than his words ever did. She exhaled a belated laugh and sat down on one of the bar stools. She never asked how the ghosts looked or how they died, and Cole never volunteered the information. She had enough that she had to deal with already.  
  
    "So how did the date with Frank go?" Cole asked to fill the heavy silence. He had gotten used to his mom dating and wasn't too bothered by it considering that it had been just her and him for over a decade. She needed a bit more normalcy in her life.  
  
    "Oh, it wasn't too bad," Lynn said, brightening a little bit. "I might go out with him again. The dinner was actually more of a friendly thing instead of romantic, but something might change."  
  
    "That's great, mom," Cole said, smiling. He yawned and stretched a bit. "I'm going to head up to bed, then... I'm going to go to the library tomorrow to look up some things for that man's death, but it shouldn't take very long. Good night." With his mother's quiet "good night" drifting up after him, Cole retreated to his bedroom and changed for bed. He stepped into the hall and used the restroom before returning to his room and lying down.   
  
    He let out a sigh and tried to get to sleep. He didn't expect any nightmares about this ghost, since the old man was so calm and the wound certainly wasn't the worst Cole had seen. It _had_ been some time since he had been approached by a ghost, though. Most of the time, he saw some people on the street or in buildings that were merely going about their business like normal people, and they normally ignored Cole until something happened to disrupt their fake "life".   
  
    Cole didn't think that he would see the old man again. The story seemed straightforward enough: the man was obviously old and confused, and he probably didn't realize that he had pulled out the wrong chemicals when he was working with what he thought was thermite - whatever that was. Cole planned to do some research and learn the man's name before tracking down his family members - Martha, especially - and telling them the old man's message.   
  
    Over the years, Cole had had to research many things for the dead people he was helping. Oftentimes, the ghosts didn't realize that they were speaking to a teenager, someone who probably had no idea what they were talking about if they wanted him to do something related to their careers. Cases like the chemistry professor's forced Cole to research the specific causes for their death, which often involved Cole having to learn about entire subjects and about the human body. His room was full of research books and more than a few books on ghosts, though none of them were very helpful.  
  
    He hoped that this case would end quickly, but even if it did, he knew that there would be another one after it, and another one after that. The dead were everywhere, and there was always someone who wanted his help.   
  
    The next morning, Cole woke to a young girl staring him in the face. With a startled yelp, he sat up and nearly hit his head on his headboard, his heart pounding frantically and his breath coming in short gasps. The girl just sat on his legs, looking up at him with a small grin on her face and a questioning tilt to her head. Cole's breath slowed and he let out an explosive breath.  
  
    "Sara, don't scare me like that!" He scolded. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!" The girl looked down, ashamed, and Cole immediately felt guilty and sighed. Sara was a ghost that appeared to be eight or nine with long brown hair, large brown eyes, and freckles across her nose. She wore a simple blue dress with a white apron tied over it and black penny loafers with white socks. Sara had met Cole not long after they had moved here, and she often visited him - though, what she did when she wasn't with him, Cole had no idea. He had tried to talk with her and find out what her unfinished business was so that he could help her, but apparently she was a mute. The only thing that she was able to write was her name in large, childish block letters.   
  
    He had tried for months to find out who she was, but all of the Sara's that had come through Oakridge were still alive. Eventually he gave up since she seemed happy enough, content with following him around once in a while, and he allowed her to do so since she had no obvious or bloody wounds that indicated how she had died. She was shy and almost always silent, but sometimes she enjoyed playing games with him or just watching him interact with the world in the way that she couldn't.  
  
    "Look, I'm sorry, you just scared me," Cole said, wiggling his legs a little and bumping her up and down on the bed. "Can you get off my legs? Your fat butt is cutting off the circulation to my feet." He grinned to show her that he was kidding and continued to bounce her up and down, making her smile widely and giggle. She moved off to the side of his bed and he got up, yawning as he gathered up some pants and a long-sleeved shirt to change into. If she was going to hang around him today, he'd better be prepared to be a bit chilly.  
  
    "I've got to change," he told her, glancing at the clock. 9:45. "If you want, you can go downstairs with my mom. She should be up by now." Sara nodded and scrambled off the bed before skipping out of the room. After Cole changed and visited the bathroom, he wandered downstairs and into the kitchen where Lynn was reading the paper and sipping tea. He greeted her and pulled out a box of cereal, toast, and milk.   
  
    "Morning, hun," she replied. "Is there someone here? It got cold down here all of a sudden."   
  
    "Yeah, Sara's sitting next to you," Cole replied, glancing over to the little girl, who barely reached the table with her chin. "I guess she wants to spend the day with us today." Sara nodded shyly and played with the end of her dress. Lynn nodded with that expression on her face that Cole knew meant "I can't believe this has become normal" and she went back to her paper. They ate their breakfast silently and were cleaning up when Lynn spoke again.  
  
    "I found out who our chemistry teacher is." Cole looked over at her in surprise. "His name is Jon Chesterfield. He worked at Oakridge High School, but I guess you've never met him since you haven't taken chemistry. He died yesterday in an explosion in the lab in his basement. It doesn't look like he has much of a family except a daughter named Martha who lives in New York."  
  
    "Really? Well, this should be a pretty easy case; he just wanted to tell Martha that he loved her and he wanted me to find out how he died." I went over to the paper and read the small article on the obituary page. After a moment, he groaned in disappointment. "Ugh, his daughter was estranged! It looks like they had an argument thirty years ago and she left when she was eighteen... she might not even come to the funeral!" He read on. "Wait a minute... ' _Investigators could not determine the cause of the explosion_ '? Oh, man!" This was turning out to be a bit more complicated than he liked and he sighed in resignation.  
  
    _This is going to be a long day..._  
  


* * *

  
  
    Several weeks passed. Cole managed to get a hold of Martha, the estranged daughter, and tell her the old man's final message of love. He passed off their relationship as that of a chemistry student becoming close to his favorite teacher. Cole felt pretty bad that he was lying to the woman, who almost immediately began crying into the phone, but at the same time he felt good about giving her the old man's final message. The woman had thanked him through her tears and had hung up, leaving him staring at the phone.  
  
    He had spent some time in the library researching thermite, which turned out to be a mix of rust and aluminum that, when lit, burned at about 4,500 degrees, both underwater and above ground. In its most common form, something that looked like large grains of black sand, thermite was not explosive at all - it simply burned and sparked slightly into a molten pile of steel and aluminum. He even asked around a bit, but couldn't really find out what the old man had been working on down in his basement, since the entire experiment had exploded and there was not much left in the lab.  
  
    However, he had done the best that he could, and life returned to normal. As soon as he had turned sixteen, his mom had forced him to get a job at a nearby restaurant as a waiter. It turned out that it was actually somewhat enjoyable and Cole was good at it - he was polite and it was easy for him to fade into the background until he was needed by a customer. Surprisingly, it also built up his arm muscles to carry around stacks of plates each day. Since it was summer, he worked five days a week and sometimes on Saturday, rain or shine, and he had become friends with most of the cooks, who even sent him home with a full meal a few times. The best part of the job was that the restaurant was brand new, which meant that no one had died in it.  
  
    Soon, in a matter of days, Cole would be starting school again, and he dreaded it. It wasn't that it was difficult, in fact, Cole was quite smart and he wasn't a difficult student, even if he missed classes sometimes. He didn't have many friends at all, but he was friendly enough to those around him and sometimes he would be invited to join someone's lunch table. No, the main thing that he couldn't stand about Oakridge High - or about any long-standing building - was that hundreds and thousands of kids had gone through there over the years, which meant that hundreds of kids who had gone to that school had also died. Most of them still went about their everyday lives, unaware that they had a reason for staying on the Earth, and last year Cole had even had a boy with a hole in his head come to his history class every single day. He hoped that the boy had finally moved on.  
  
    The days before school started passed extremely fast and before he knew it, Cole was waking up at 6:30 in the morning and stumbling through his morning routine, pulling on some stonewashed jeans, a tight black shirt and a blue button up over it. He tucked his cell phone (for emergencies) into his pocket, swung his backpack over his shoulder, and walked down the stairs and into the kitchen where his mother was making eggs and toast.   
  
    "Good luck at school today," his mom said after they had eaten. "You know what to do in case something happens. Be good, and try to meet a pretty girl this year, yeah?" She grinned mischievously and Cole blushed a bit, his ears turning red.  
  
    "Mom! Jeez..." He complained, jumping up and grabbing his backpack. "I'm outta here. Bye!"  
  
    With her goodbye floating out behind him, he opened the garage and jumped onto his bike, pedaling hard down the street to make sure that he wasn't late. He loved riding his bike, especially in the morning, and he smiled despite his dread as he whizzed through the early morning traffic and through a shortcut in an alley. As he passed through the alley, he was hit with a blast of freezing air and he caught a glimpse of a homeless man with vomit down his front crumpled next to a dumpster before Cole looked away and kept going until the cold passed.   
  
    He arrived at the high school less than five minutes later, barely breathing hard as he quickly locked it up and walked through the doors. He pulled out his schedule and glanced through the classes again before heading off to his first class: College Algebra. He slipped in just before the bell rang and settled into one of the back seats, glancing around for anyone he recognized. He couldn't see anyone he knew well enough to greet, but that was normal for him. Sighing, he sat back in his seat and pulled out his notebook and a pen.  
  
    "Hi, are you new here?" Cole glanced up, startled. Apparently noticing his loneliness, the girl next to him had leaned over and was now waiting for his response, her green eyes warm and friendly.  
  
    "Oh, uh, n-no, not really," Cole stuttered, uncharacteristically nervous at the interaction. He had been alone with his mom and ghosts for too long. He cleared his throat, willing his voice not to crack. "I moved here about two years ago. You?"  
  
    "I moved here a year and a half ago, but I was homeschooled last year," she explained. "But you look sorta familiar. Have we met?"  
  
    "Uh, no, I don't think so," Cole said dumbly, thinking to himself that he would remember if a pretty girl had ever talked to him in his life. "But I'm a waiter at _The_ _Mariposa,_ so you might've seen me there..."  
  
    "Oh, that's right!" She exclaimed, looking delighted. "I _knew_ I'd seen you somewhere before." She smiled at him and he smiled shyly back, wondering why he had such a problem talking with her. Luckily, the teacher began introducing the class and the conversation ended. When the class ended, he waved goodbye to the girl, even though he didn't even know her name, and went to his next class, history.   
  
    The day passed slowly. Since it was just the first day, there wasn't any homework assigned in any of the classes, so Cole just sat in his seat in the back idly sketching on a spare piece of paper. The seemingly random lines slowly became a beautiful detailed sketch of Sara standing by a tree in the park and watching other children play. Cole had always had talent in drawing, and he enjoyed sketching people he had met or seen - he never drew the ghosts as he saw them, of course, but sometimes he imagined what they looked like when they were whole and alive and happy.  
  
    By the time the school day ended, the sketch was complete and stuffed among his other scraps of paper in his binder as he left the school and climbed on his bike. He took a deep breath and set off, taking a different way than he had this morning and thinking about the utter lack of excitement in returning to school. _If every day is going to be like today,_ he thought, _this is going to be a long year._  
  


* * *

  
  
    Nearly two months passed. As it turned out, the green-eyed girl - her name was Erin Kinley - had several classes with Cole and as time passed, they became friends. Cole was still somewhat hesitant about getting close to her since dealing with dead people regularly was both distracting and made for a sort of morbid fear of seeing someone he was close to after they had died. He wasn't sure if he could handle that. Still, Erin had determinedly muscled her way into his life, and now he was actually pretty glad. She was friendly, bright, and had a good sense of humor that never failed to lift his spirits. She had even been over to his house for an art project, and Cole's mom never missed an opportunity to tease him about it.  
  
    School was also a pleasant surprise because, even though he had seen a few ghosts wandering the halls, none of them had approached him and he knew that they were still living in their pseudo-world, unaware and uncaring. In the meantime, he had been able to settle into his classes easily and fade pleasantly into the background as the shy, quiet boy that most people forgot was there. Most people except the teachers, that is. The adults never forgot Cole, maybe because he did well in their classes, maybe because of the haunted look in his eyes, the one that told them that he had seen more horrors in his life than they would be able to comprehend, the one that made him seem so much more older than they. The other students couldn't see it, not even Erin, but they acknowledged it unconsciously.  
  
    In fact, he had successfully avoided standing out in any way... until his government class had had its first test, that is. At Oakridge High School, U.S. Government was a required class for graduation, which meant that the class was usually packed during the senior year, even though many of the students didn't care enough to come. Cole had taken the class a year early, so that there were even fewer students, and the class had to be held in one of the smallest classrooms in the school. Most of the time, there were at least a couple students skipping and so there was enough room for everyone, but today there was a test that would determine whether they would pass or fail the semester... which meant that everyone had to show up.   
  
    Normally, Cole wouldn't be too concerned about that, especially since he was sure that he would ace the test easily, but today something was different. He noticed it as soon as he walked into the room; the drop in temperature, the faint shivering of the people in the room. He didn't see the girl at first, considering the room was so full, but he wasn't able to miss the long length of satin cord wrapped around her neck for long. He gulped, a sudden burst of fear plunging his stomach into a cold vat of ice water. She was sitting at the last table that had any room on it. To everyone else in the room, of course, the chair was empty, and Cole couldn't take the risk of talking to the girl or trying to get her to move from her seat. Ghosts were sometimes easily angered. Luckily, there was one chair left in the corner of the room, and he felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment as the other students stared at him in confusion when he grabbed the chair and dragged it over to the table that already had an empty seat. Cole set up the chair at the end of the table and shot the girl a nervous look before taking out his things and preparing for the test.  
  
    The girl seemed to ignore him, casually scratching the purple-red skin of her neck. The teacher started class a few minutes later, passing out several sheets of paper, and Cole quickly scratched out detailed answers to the questions on the test, wanting to leave the room as soon as possible. He only hoped that nothing happened, but it seemed as though that was in vain. About halfway through the test, the girl began choking; great, hacking coughs shaking the table and blood-colored fluid splattering on the paper in front of her. Cole looked up with wide eyes, fear and worry clouding his features as he took in her increasingly-purple face and spasming limbs. His attention shifted from the girl to the boy sitting behind her, who - thinking that Cole was looking at him - was now flipping the smaller boy off. Shakily, Cole returned his attention to the paper in front of him, grimacing internally at the awful choking sounds coming from the girl next to him.   
  
    Suddenly, a freezing-cold hand grasped his wrist with an iron-tight grip and the choking ceased. Slowly, Cole glanced up, dreading what he might see. The girl was hunched over her paper, one hand clutching at her throat, but her head was turned so that she was staring at him. Her eyes were blood-red from burst blood vessels.   
  
    "Help me...." she croaked, her voice raspy and harsh. Cole's eyes widened and he quickly looked back to his test. It seemed as though she had just woken up from her "dream world" and needed his help to pass on. Furiously, he scribbled out answers on the test, feeling the grip on his wrist tighten with each passing moment until the cold seemed to seep into his very bones. He could feel her eyes boring into his bowed head, her every breath rattling through her crushed windpipe and sending shudders up and down his back. Cole hated it when this happened. He wanted to close his eyes and count to ten, chanting that she was "not there, not there, not there", like he had when he was a child, but that would only get rid of them temporarily. Besides, it would anger her and he would most likely get hurt when she returned later. Even now, he was risking her anger and desperation by waiting to finish a final question on the colonial means of commerce and economy. By now, his wrist was probably bruised.   
  
    Finally, he set down his pencil and shakily ran a hand through his hair. He met her pleading, demanding gaze, and gave the briefest of nods. Her grip loosened slightly and her cracked lips parted in a smile that revealed blood-stained teeth, allowing him to stand and gather up his paper to take to the teacher's desk in the back of the room. She stood also and followed closely behind. Cole gave a tight-lipped smile to the teacher, who looked up in surprise and then concern when he saw Cole's pale face and lightly shaking hands.   
  
    "Ah, finished already, Cole?" He asked with a smile. "The test wasn't _that_ bad was it? You look like you've seen a ghost." Cole _hated_ it when people used that expression.  
  
    "No, it was fine, but I'm not feeling very well. Can I go to the nurse?"   
  
    The teacher's smile faded and concern swept over his features. "Yes, of course." He turned his attention to his desk and searched for a pen and some paper. Cole fidgeted slightly and wished that he would hurry. "Take this note and your things... I hope you feel better soon. There's no homework tonight." Cole thanked him and quickly stuffed the letter into his pocket as he moved back to his desk and clumsily shoved his things into his backpack. Taking a deep breath and exhaling - seeing a tiny cloud emerge from his lips as he did so - Cole headed for the door. He let out a breath of relief when he made it through the door without incident, but he could hardly interrogate the girl here, even if the halls were empty, so he started out in the direction of the front doors of the school, outside of which his bike was locked up. He startled badly when the thus-far silent ghost behind him grabbed his arm and tugged on it as they passed the front office.  
  
    "Wait! I can't leave without my backpack!" She wailed, her damaged voice cracking and breaking horribly. Cole casually glanced over at her, barely slowing.   
  
    "Where is it?" He whispered, his lips barely moving. After all, he couldn't be seen talking to himself now, could he?  
    "I don't know," she whined. "I can't remember."  
  
    "Didn't you come to school with it today?" He asked, exasperated.  
  
    "Not _that_ one!" She said, annoyed. "My _other_ one. I left it here a long time ago." Cole slowed, just barely managing not to roll his eyes in frustration. It must be important, if she was this fixated on it.   
  
    "All right, fine," he said soothingly. "What does it look like?"  
  
    "It's pink, with a goth Hello Kitty key chain and lots of writing on it. There's a copy of Shakespeare's sonnets inside." Cole nodded slightly and changed his course, heading into the front office. A large woman in swaths of black cloth that draped off of her thick arms glared up at him from under her heavy, painted-on eyebrows.   
  
    "Can I help you?" She asked, sounding exactly contrary to the polite words.  
  
    "Yes, can I look through the lost and found for my friends' backpack?"   
  
    "Aren't you supposed to be in class?" She asked rudely.  
  
    "My friend has pneumonia and I'm staying with her while her parents are at work." Cole lied, not batting an eye. He had become quite adept at making up lies on the spot by now. Giving him a suspicious look, she heaved herself from her chair and ambled over to a room in the back corner of the office. A moment later, she returned.  
  
    "We have quite a few backpacks. Can you explain what the bag looks like and what's in it?"  
  
    Inwardly, Cole rolled his eyes in annoyance. "It's pink with lots of writing all over it and a goth Hello Kitty key chain. There are, um, a bunch of papers, probably a notebook or two, and a book of Shakespeare's sonnets inside." The woman gave him a look that assured him that she thought he was a delinquent and returned to the room in the back. As he waited, he shivered when the ghost beside him began coughing and choking again, her grip becoming even tighter on his wrist. He prayed that the receptionist would hurry.   
  
    As if hearing his thoughts, the unpleasant woman returned with a pink backpack matching the girl's description clutched in her meaty hands and handing it to him over the counter.   
  
    "That's been in there for a long time," the woman commented suspiciously as he prepared to leave.  
  
    "Well, she just remembered where it was." Cole responded impatiently before giving her a cursory thanks and leaving. The girl behind him hacked and coughed for a few more moments - blood staining her hand - before she followed him out of the front doors and gripped his wrist tightly again.  
  
    "Help... me!" She rasped, anger and despair lighting her blood-red eyes.  
  
    "Don't worry, I am," Cole said in what he hoped to be a calm tone, his limbs trembling slightly in fear and cold. The colder the air around them became, the angrier ghosts were, and the temperature was dropping quickly. "Just... can you meet me at my house? I'll be there in a few minutes." The girl nodded, impatience making the movement sharp and jerky, and she vanished from sight. Cole let out a deep breath, feeling miserable as he unlocked his bike chain and rode back home. He didn't want to deal with a ghost right now. Couldn't he just have his own privacy and lead his own life for a while without someone needing his help?  
  
    Reluctantly, he pulled out his phone and texted a message to his mother, not wanting to disturb her with a phone call while she was at work. "There was a problem at school. I'm going home to work it out. Don't worry about coming home early." The message read, and he returned the phone to his pocket he before pulled up reluctantly at his house. Opening the front door, he was met with a blast of freezing air and only had enough time to register the great cloud of air that was his breath before something struck him violently across his cheek, sending him to the floor. He slid on his side into the wall with a startled yelp and quickly scrambled to his feet, raising a hand automatically to his burning cheek. He could feel blood dripping from several large gashes caused by the girl's long nails.  
  
    "What took you so long?!" She screamed, her injured voice breaking and screeching oddly.   
  
    "Nothing!" Cole responded loudly, trying to reign in his anger and surprise. Fear caused his blood to pound through his veins, making the wounds on his face throb numbly. "I'm here to help you. I just needed to get away from everyone first. Don't worry, I'm here now. I'm here to help..." He kept his voice calm and soothing, feeling the effects as her ire calmed and her anger faded slightly. Slowly, he reached for his and her backpack and moved into the living room. Opening his bag, he scrambled for a pen and paper as she began talking.   
  
    Her name was Amber Williams and according to her, the year was two years before it was in reality. She had had a boyfriend named Johnny. He made her pregnant. They had made plans for a short while to stay together, but then she found out that he was cheating on her, and had been since before she had gotten pregnant. When she confronted him about it, he called her a whore and left. She had tried to deal with it all and find other boyfriends, but once they found out she was pregnant, they all left. She felt alone since she hadn't told her parents that she had been dating Johnny - in fact, she wasn't supposed to date at all. She knew her parents would hate her when they found out that she had disobeyed them and was now pregnant. There was no way out for her.  
  
    Cole could guess what happened next. From what he could gather, she was feeling incredible guilt for betraying her family and not leaving them with an explanation of why she had killed herself.   
  
    "They need to know," she was saying now, after being interrupted by another fit of coughing. Flecks of blood spattered the coffee table and her breath rattled even louder in the quiet house. "They all do. My parents, my brother, my sisters. And Johnny. Tell them that I loved them more than life itself and that I'm sorry that I disappointed them. Tell them it wasn't their fault. Tell Jamie not to make the same mistakes I did, and tell Kim that I'm sorry that I didn't listen to her advice. She was the best friend anyone could ever have. And tell Johnny -" her eyes glinted with devious pleasure, and for a moment Cole saw a glimpse of the girl that she had been when she was alive. "Tell Johnny to live a full and happy life, because I'll make sure his afterlife will be hell."  
  
    Moments later, she was gone. Cole sighed and rubbed his forehead with one of his hands, processing everything he had heard and what he would have to do to fulfill her requests. He looked over the sheet of paper where he had scribbled down the notes of her life so that he could remember everything and be able to create believable lies for the family. Finally, he stirred and retreated to the bathroom, cleaning himself up and throwing his bloody clothes into the dirty-clothes hamper before he went back to the couch and cleaned up the blood from the table. Even if no one else could see the ghost's blood, it still disturbed him. He then curled up in an armchair with a sweater on and pulled Amber's backpack toward him. It was time to look for evidence.  
  


* * *

  
  
    His mother found him, a full hour and a half earlier than she normally came home, still in the armchair and staring at nothing, with papers strewn and stacked around him. Noting the sweater he wore and the warm temperature of the house, Lynn quickly moved to his side, a thrill of alarm going through her when she saw the large butterfly bandage over his left cheek.   
  
    "Oh my God! Cole, are you alright?"   
  
    Starting in surprise, Cole looked up and gave her a small smile. "Yeah, don't worry about it, mom. I'm fine."  
  
    "What happened?"  
  
    "A ghost showed up at school and wanted me to help her. I told her to meet me here, but she got angry when I took a while." He shrugged it off. "It's just a scratch. It'll be fine by next week. I told you not to come home early." Lynn sighed, running a hand through her hair.   
  
    "Oh, Cole... What am I going to do with you?"  
  
    "Make me lunch?" Cole asked, grinning cheekily. She let out a laugh and cuffed him lightly on the shoulder, leaning in for a quick peck on the head.   
  
    "Brat," she said fondly, before moving into the kitchen to do just that. Cole knew she needed something to do to calm her thoughts. Meanwhile, he sorted through the papers that were in Amber's backpack. Most of them were school papers, but there were also several papers that looked like letters to family members and a slim book that appeared to be a journal. A quick glance at the latter contents of the journal confirmed that this was the item that he would need to send to her family in order to bring her peace. When he flipped through the Shakespeare book he saw that there were notes and comments scribbled in the margins that apparently mirrored Amber's chaotic life before she died. The name Johnny McDaniels came up more than once. Finally, he found an agenda with her name and address written in the front, giving him a place to start looking. In the "Contacts" section, he also found the addresses and phone numbers of several people, one of which being a Kimberlain ("Kimmy") Johnson. Sighing, he packed her stuff back into her bag and set it on the couch to work on later.   
  
    The next morning dawned bright and cheery, as if unaware or uncaring of the frightful events of the day before and the depressingly long task that now lay ahead of Cole. Half an hour after his alarm sounded, Cole slumped in front of his plate of scrambled eggs with a grunt of exhaustion. He had laid awake in bed long into the night thinking up excuses and lies that would be plausible enough to explain how he knew Amber Williams and how he had her backpack and a message from her. After years of doing this, you'd think that there was some sort of template that he could come up with for each age group, but Cole had soon found out that every case was different and every reaction was different as well. There were some things that he just couldn't predict.  
  
    Mindlessly, he ate his breakfast, only half-listening to his mother's routine reading of the morning's obituaries ("just in case"). As his brain began waking up, Cole thought ahead to the work he needed to do to find out who this girl was and if her family and friends were still in the area. It would also help to know a bit more about her. The library would be his first stop for the day. It was 9:30, so he had plenty of time in the day before he had to go to work at _The Mariposa_ that night.   
  
    However, just as he was packing some spare bits of paper into Amber's bag to take to the library, the doorbell rang. He let his mom get it, thinking it was Frank Finn, but he was surprised to see Erin being led into the living room a few moments later, and he quickly straightened up from the girly bag, surreptitiously zipping it shut and dropping it to the floor between the armchair and the wall.   
  
    "Erin!...?" He said quickly, turning it into a question at the last moment in an attempt to act natural. "Um, what're you doing here?" She gave him a weird look, but smiled as she set her own bag on the floor and sat on the couch.   
  
    "We're working on that art project together, remember? I thought you were the one that said that mornings were best on Saturdays because you have to work tonight." Cole gave her an apologetic half-smile, running a hand through his hair.  
  
    "Oh, er... right." He said lamely, but she just laughed at him. He huffed defensively. "Well, I've got a lot on my mind, alright? Come on, let's head to my room."   
  
    "Leave the door open, you two!" He heard his mother call in a singsong voice, and he rolled his eyes, hearing Erin laughing behind him.  
  
    "My mother's insane." He announced as soon as they entered his room, collapsing into his office chair as Erin sat on the ground.   
  
    "Yeah right, my mom wouldn't let you past the living room!" Erin responded gloomily. "You're mom's awesome!"  
  
    "Yeah, I guess so... when she's not making fun of me, anyway."  
  
    "All parents do that," she said indifferently, twirling her mechanical pencil in her fingers. "So, this is your room, huh?"  
  
    Cole made a sound of affirmation, looking around as well. It was mostly clean and organized, though the bookshelves were a mess with research books and fiction novels. The walls were painted a calming moss green with white trim and were devoid of any kind of decoration. There were stacks of homework on his desk, along with random drawings shoved under a pile of notebooks that - had they been able to see the covers - read "The Solution: Case Book 1". Each book outlined each of the ghost cases he took on as they occurred, and the way he helped them. He was up to about book five, now, with the latest being Jon Chesterfield's chemical explosion, and he was planning on adding Amber's today. Traumatic deaths - the kind that made people stay on the earth after they died - seemed to be so rare in Oakridge that only a quarter of book 5 was just being filled with cases from here, while the first four books had been filled in the first eight years after he discovered The Solution.  
  
    "So, how are we going to do this?" Cole jumped, his thoughts broken by Erin's voice.   
  
    "Well, we need to decide on an artist to analyze and present. How much do you want to bet that there will be at least three Michaelangelos, Van Goghs, and da Vincis?"  
  
    "Mhmm... I'm not taking that bet. Okay, so we need someone original. Who?"  
  
    There was a long moment of silence.  
  
    "Well, I like M.C. Escher..."  
  
    "Oh, that's great! I like him, too."  
  
    "So, you want to do him, then?"   
  
    "Yeah, that's a great idea. Do you have a computer?"  
  
    "Er... no, we don't. We're going to have to go to the library." He led the way out of the room again, surreptitiously sliding Case Book 5 into his backpack as he did so.   
  
    "Hey, I meant to ask earlier," Erin said as they left through the front door and began walking to the library. There was a brisk wind that reddened her cheeks and made her fiery red hair whip about playfully. "What happened to your cheek?"  
  
    Reflexively, Cole's hand went up to touch the bandage before it dropped with a shrug of his shoulders. "Oh, I just tripped and scraped my face against something in our garage last night. Never try looking for a soda in the dark."  
  
    "Um.. I think I already knew that," she said, laughing. Cole smiled through the guilt blossoming in his chest. He hated lying to people, but sometimes it was necessary. It's not like she would understand, anyway. He pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind as she excitedly pointed out her house, only a block and a half from his house, and Cole smiled when he spotted a tiny doghouse with an equally tiny white dog sleeping in front of it. His name was Einstein, she explained as they passed. Finally, they reached the main street of town. Both of them shivered as a sudden burst of cold wind blew past them, and they hurried up the steps of the library, Cole looking back. He saw a woman near the side of the street with her face bloody and broken, her wrists snapped and hanging loosely, indicating that she was most likely the victim of a car accident. He had seen this particular type of death so often that he could recognize the signs by now, with just a glance. Shuddering at the oddness of that, Cole hurried in after Erin.   
  
    Whispering quietly as they headed to the art section of the library, the two teenagers outlined their plan for the morning. The way that they had it planned out, they wouldn't have to spend very much time in the library. Finally, they reached their desired section and paused for a moment, taking in the long row of shelves upon shelves of art books. They shared a disbelieving look and a groan. Putting on an exaggeratedly excited look, Cole pushed his sleeves up to his elbows and rubbed his hands together.  
  
    "Oh boy, I can't wait!" He said. Erin began laughing quietly, but cut herself off abruptly when she caught sight of Cole's arms. Her gasp made Cole look over at her in confusion, the mock smile slipping off his face. Following the line of her gaze, he looked down at his arms and immediately felt the blood drain from his face, his heart skipping a beat. On his left wrist was a deep, black-and-blue bruise in the shape of fingers encircling his thin limb, left by the angry ghost from the day before. Cole immediately pushed his sleeves back down, knowing how it looked.  
  
    "Er... um, c-come on, l-let's get started." Inwardly, he cursed at his stuttering. Erin was looking almost fearful by now, and he knew that nothing good could come from this. He searched his mind frantically for any possible excuse or lie, but he couldn't come up with anything plausible. He turned away to stare at the shelves, unable to meet her gaze, but her light touch on his arm forced him to glance over at her.   
  
    "Cole, what happened? Who hurt you?" She asked quietly, searching his face intently with worried green eyes, but he wouldn't look directly at her. Her eyes drifted down from his eyes to the bandage across his cheek. Somehow, she was now quite certain that he hadn't been hurt looking for a can of pop, and her lips tightened in... what? Anger? Fear? Frustration? At whom?

"Look, just... just forget about it, okay?" Cole said, finally meeting her eyes. "It's not what you think. I'm _fine_."  
  
    She heartily disbelieved that, but not wanting to push him away (and, frankly, she wasn't sure what she would do even if he told her the truth), she reluctantly let the subject go. Several hours of tense research later, they separated when Erin's mom came to pick her up at the library. Cole waved goodbye from the steps of the library, smiling only slightly when he saw that the woman from before was gone. When Erin's car was out of sight, he sat down and pulled out his phone, dialing his home number. When his mom picked up, he told her that he would be staying at the library for a while longer, and hung up with a deep sigh.  
  
    He had known it would only be a matter of time. In one form or another, any friend he had ever tried to make would be pushed away, or would find out something strange about him, and he would be left alone. It never failed.   
  
    Only a couple of hours later, Cole was rubbing his eyes in frustration and exhaustion as he packed up his things. He had been able to concentrate fully on Amber's case for a little while, but once thoughts of Erin and her reaction began intruding on his thoughts, he found it harder and harder to do so. It hadn't helped that there were a number of men and women in the library that had burned to death long ago and seemed to enjoy hovering around the area of the old newspaper reader where he was looking for articles relating to Amber's death. Letting his mind drift to relax from all of the thinking he had been doing, Cole slid a large stack of articles into his backpack, several of which entitled "Teen Suicide Saddens County," "Williams Family Speaks About Daughter's Death," and "Reason for Suicide Puzzles Family".   
  
    Deciding to just let the whole matter settle into the back of his mind to be mulled over subconsciously, Cole only had enough time to return home for lunch before he had to go to work. That night, sleep eluded him as his thoughts constantly drifted from worry about Erin's reaction to frustration about Amber's case. He could find almost nothing about the William's family except that they moved a few months after their daughter's death. He didn't know where they moved, or how to contact them, which meant that he needed to ask their previous neighbors and also the family that had moved into the William's old house. Johnny McDaniels was still living in Oakridge, which made it easier to reach him, but Cole still needed to hammer out the details of his story before he could contact Johnny. Cole was glad for the little puzzle to work on; it took his mind off of the worry in the back of his mind about what Erin would do next.  
  
    He needn't have worried. Several days passed with no consequence other than Erin's constant, worried glances during class. But Cole could deal with that. He had already accepted that she might abandon their friendship at some point in time, even though it hurt him to do so, and he was just glad that she wasn't taking any further action in light of what she had seen. By the middle of the week, Cole relaxed slightly, certain that the green-eyed girl would just leave the matter alone, just as he'd asked her to.   
  
    Honestly, he should have known better.  
  
    He already knew that the girl was stubborn and took their friendship seriously. It had been years of rejection that had taught him that most people never really cared enough to really get to know him, to _understand_ him. Now that he had found someone who did, he didn't even recognize it when he saw it. Instead, he pushed Erin away, acting on the instinct to protect himself from rejection and loneliness. And so it was that when the school counselor called him out of class in the middle of the day, Cole didn't even begin to suspect that anything was amiss.  
  
    If he had, he most likely would have been more prepared, or he might have even left the school. As it was, he merely greeted Mr. Parker with a small but friendly smile that was met with a large grin. James Parker was a relatively tall man at 6'1" with the lean body of a swimmer beneath his normal attire of slacks and tie. He had inconspicuously brown hair and warm brown eyes that shone in such a way to let you know that he loved his job and he loved each student individually. Even Cole, with his normally distant and haunted demeanor, found himself liking the man instantly, his own smile growing.   
  
    "Good morning, Cole," Mr. Parker said, gesturing for Cole to enter his office. "Thank you for stopping by. Hopefully this won't take very long."  
  
    "What did you need, sir?" Cole asked curiously, seeing the man's expression become serious. Cole's heart skipped a beat as a sense of foreboding crept into his gut.   
  
    Mr. Parker waved a hand absent-mindedly. "Please, Cole, it's James. 'Sir' and 'Mr. Parker' make me feel old." Cole barely cracked a smile as the man hesitated, looking Cole over thoroughly as if trying to see into his soul. "Cole," he said solemnly, "I hope that you realize that everything that happens in this office, no matter who I'm talking to, will _remain_ in this office. It does no one any good to lie here, and I don't appreciate it in the slightest when someone lies to me. A friend of yours came to me, reluctant to break your trust but nearly in tears with worry for you. She cares about you very much and she doesn't want to lose you or your friendship over something that could possibly hurt you." Mr. Parker leaned forward in his chair, his warm, sympathetic gaze captivating Cole's wide blue eyes. An icy wave of fear crashed over him, making goosebumps rise on his arms and making his heart skip a beat. _Erin told him Erin told him Erin told him_...!  
  
    "Cole, is there something you want to tell me? Remember, you don't need to lie here." Mr. Parker was so warm and concerned, his gaze never moving from Cole's, and something deep within Cole responded, a longing to tell the truth and receive comfort from the kind man. At times, he felt that he would just burst if he didn't share the truth of his curse with someone other than his mother. He needed someone else to understand, to _know_ him completely. He couldn't rely on his mother forever, and as much as he loved her and as much as he wanted his curse to remain a secret, there were just some things that his mother couldn't provide for her unique son as he grew. It was the same desire that had driven him to tell the dead psychologist, the man who had then given him the Solution. And yet, as before, Cole resisted the urge to tell Mr. Parker everything. He gathered his thoughts, realizing that the man was waiting for a response, and took a deep breath.  
  
    "Look, Mr. P- James, I appreciate the thought, really, but there's nothing to tell," Cole said as calmly as he could, meeting Mr. Parker's eyes squarely. However, by the time he had finished the sentence, his eyes had dropped to the floor. He was never very good at lying to those he liked. "I mean, yeah, I got hurt, but it's not what you think. The gh-" Cole broke off, sucking in a quick breath as he nearly slipped. Tensing up, he quickly glanced up and nearly flinched at the disappointment in Mr. Parker's eyes.   
  
    "Alright," Mr. Parker sighed. "Can you please show me your injuries, at least? I want to be sure that you're not hurt too badly." Cole hesitated for a long moment, torn between guarding his secret and easing the kind man's concerns. Finally, after deciding that it was the least he could do, Cole nodded hesitantly. Pushing his sleeve up to his elbow, the teenager unwrapped the bandages he had put around his wrist to prevent any other accidents and pulled it away. The fingers on his wrist had faded to a sickly green and yellow color with light purple appearing in places and he winced instinctively when Mr. Parker gently took his wrist and examined it carefully. Finally, he set his wrist down and sighed again, sadness and worry clouding his features briefly. He soundlessly gestured to the butterfly bandage across Cole's cheek and Cole carefully peeled it off, no longer able to look the counselor in the eye. The gashes across his cheek were clearly made by fingernails. They were healing nicely, but Cole wasn't sure whether there would be scars or not.   
  
    "Well, they aren't too bad," Mr. Parker said finally, leaning back in his chair. "They'll heal nicely, but I wish that you would tell me what's going on, Cole. If you're being hurt..."  
  
    "It's not like that. It's a bit more complicated." Cole hastened to reassure him. "I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong. I'm not being bullied, and my mom has no idea about this," he gestured to his arm, "Except that I scraped my face in the garage. You can even ask her. Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. I can deal with it."  
  
    Mr. Parker didn't look like he completely believed him, but he could hardly keep Cole there, so the boy left a few moments later with the counselor's assurances that he would always be there if Cole needed to talk. Cole doubted that that would be happening any time soon. It seemed that he was destined to be alone in this regard.

 


	2. Chapter 2

     Although he knew that she was only trying to help, Cole couldn't help but feel a bit angry with Erin. Granted, he couldn't exactly say that he wouldn't do the same if he was in her position, but it still hurt that she had broken his trust. He retreated back into himself like he had in years before, knowing that it would cause Erin pain but willing to take the risk in order to keep his secret safe. His mother didn't really approve of his methods once he had refused to see Erin when she had come to his house to talk with him, but she left him alone because she understood his extreme protectiveness over his secrets. A week passed and he might have continued in this manner if Amber hadn't visited him again and he ended up needing Erin's help.  
  
     On a Friday night, Cole's mother had left to go on another date with Frank Finn - somewhat half-heartedly because (she confided in Cole) she didn't feel as though it would go anywhere. Cole wished her luck on breaking up with the unfortunate man. For Cole, it had been a normal night as he sat in front of the TV with a small stack of homework and his Case Book 5 to work on later. Time passed quickly as he became engrossed in an essay on civil liberties, and it wasn't until he noticed his breath fogging up his vision every other second that he realized that the room was frigid. He had unconsciously tucked himself deeper into the couch until he was pressed between the arm and the cushions for warmth and the little hairs on his arms were standing up along with the ones on the back of his neck. Cole stiffened in fear. It had been growing steadily colder for some time and yet no ghost had made itself known to him yet, and that could only mean one thing: one very pissed off ghost was heading his way, fast.  
  
    _Oh, crap.  
  
_     A cold sweat broke out on Cole's body as his body kicked into flight-or-fight mode, his heart pounding hard and fast in his chest and his breath gasping out in thick white clouds. His eyes darted around the room. He didn't have a weapon, or anything to protect himself with against the ghosts. He never had. But there was no way that he was just going to sit there and take it this time; the only thing he could think of was to get out of the house. Now.  
  
    Without another thought, Cole shoved his things out of the way and bolted for the hallway leading to the front door. His bare feet thudded across the hardwood floor, nearly sliding out from under him as he tried to halt his progress once he reached the entryway. Cobwebs of ice frosted over the glass of the door and over the door handle, spreading across the floor in a thin, slippery sheet. Gaining his balance once more, Cole stared in disbelief for a split second before he turned and ran for the back door, as far away from the source of danger as he could. Bursting into the kitchen and sprinting across the floor, Cole's heart thudded loudly in his ears, seeming to drown out anything besides the sound of his gasping breaths.  
  
    He was almost there. Could he dare believe-? Could he make it-?  
  
    Cole turned the corner leading to the back door, not noticing the abrupt decrease in temperature until it was too late. Face-to-face with a furious Amber Williams, her eyes nearly black and rage simply pouring from her form, Cole felt his heart miss a beat and his breath hitched unevenly. Unbidden, a shrill scream of fear and surprise was torn from Cole's throat as he tried to avoid colliding with the girl, but his feet slid on the frozen floor and flew out from beneath him. Sliding right across the short hall, his hip slammed straight into a small table against the wall and his entire right leg went numb as he crumpled to the floor with a pained cry. The table was knocked over with a terrific bang.  
  
    _"Why haven't you been helping me?!"_ Amber screeched from above him. There was no trace of the pleading, helpless teenager that had asked for his help. This was a monster. _"You worthless piece of trash!"  
  
_     Cole didn't respond. He could barely get a breath inside his lungs, and even if he could, he didn't know what he could say to placate the ghost. It was true that he hadn't worked on her case since she had left because he had been worrying about the whole Erin business. Instead, he tried to scramble away, but found that the moment he tried to move his legs, the numbness vanished in a trail of fire that burned fiercely from his hip down to the arch in his foot and back up again. Pained tears leaked from his eyes as he struggled to his feet, but before he could take a step, he felt a stabbing pain in his shoulder, piercing through his thin cotton shirt and deep into his skin. His body automatically jerked and he felt lines of white-hot pain drag down diagonally across his back, followed quickly by warm liquid that was cooling with each passing second.  
  
    _"You'll pay for ignoring me!"  
  
_     Cole let out another scream, crashing to the floor hard and sliding into the wall with a heavy thud. New pains blossomed on his elbow, head, and knees and his vision was swimming dangerously. Stunned, Cole could barely even _think_ of moving, much less gather the energy to do so. Resigned to the hopelessness of his situation, Cole closed his eyes and waited for Amber to make her next strike. But it never came.  
  
    _"Who the hell are you?!"  
  
    _ Confused, Cole's eyes squinted open. In front of him were a familiar pair of black penny loafers and small, lace-edged socks. Blinking in complete shock, Cole lifted his head, watching as Amber glared hatefully at the little girl standing in front of him, blood still dripping from her sharp nails.  
  
    _"Get out of my way, you little brat! He will pay for what he's done!"  
  
_     Sara shook her head, her brown hair flying wildly. She still didn't speak but her stubborn stance spoke volumes: she would not be moved. Taking a moment to peek over her shoulder at him, she gave him an urgent look, her meaning clear: _Go! Leave now; I'll hold her off._ Infuriated, Amber let out a shriek of frustration and struck out at Sara, who merely let the hand go straight through the side of her face. Amber paused, looking shocked, and Cole took the opportunity to summon every last bit of strength that he had and surge to his feet. He bolted from the room, ignoring the way his legs wanted to collapse under him and the way his head felt like it was being rolled around in a washer. Shuddering at the inarticulate screech that followed him, Cole focused on convincing himself that the floor was stationary until he finally reached the front door. He yanked it open and ran across the lawn, shivering as the wind blew through his thin black shirt and pale blue stone-washed jeans. The sky was black and cloudy, and rain was coming down in sheets. The random thought crossed his mind that no one was going to have a good day today; especially himself and Frank Finn. He ignored the absurd thoughts. It was harder to ignore the small rocks that stabbed at his bare feet, but somehow he did it.  
  
    He wasn't even sure where he was going; it wasn't like he and his mom had made any particular effort to get to know anyone in this town, but somehow his feet followed the familiar path to the library, veering off the road nearly two blocks later and into a yard with a tiny doghouse. Cole was beyond exhausted by now, all of his limbs aching or stabbed with pain and his mind too hazy to barely even register that he was stumbling up the front steps and leaning helplessly on the door, weakly pounding his fist against it.  
  
    Abruptly, his support vanished as the door opened and he stumbled inside, nearly falling to his knees as he blindly grasped for something to hold him up. His hand came into contact with a smooth metal rod and he immediately latched onto it, swaying slightly. There were confused words and panicked shouts, but the sounds wavered into incomprehensible babble that only increased his pounding headache to the point that he nearly jerked away in surprise when someone grasped his arm. Opening eyes that he hadn't even realized had closed, Cole tried to focus on the face of the man in front of him, but he soon gave up when he realized he didn't recognize him. Behind the man, however, in a small hallway, a familiar figure with red hair approached.  
  
    "Cole!" Came her frantic voice. "Are you alrig- Oh my God! Dad, look, he's bleeding!" At this point, Cole didn't bother trying to concentrate any longer. His exhaustion overtook him quickly and he gratefully let his vision fade to black, knowing that he was safe.  
  
    It was the sound of murmuring voices that woke him next, but he was completely content to keep his eyes closed as they faded in and out of his hearing. He was so tired.  
  
    " _Are you sure that I can't help?"_  
  
    _"Yes, don't worry about it. I'll talk to him when he wakes up and tell him you came."  
  
    "I don't know... it seemed like he was really mad at me before this happened. Maybe he doesn't want to know that I was here."  
  
    "Don't you dare think that way, Erin. I know my son and I'm positive that he's _ not _mad at you. He's just confused and scared."  
  
    "Scared?"  
  
    "...I can't say anything else. It's his secret to tell, not mine..."  
  
    _ His hearing faded out again and he was swallowed up by darkness again. An indeterminate amount of time passed before he woke again.  
  
    " _Cole, please, wake up... It's time to open your eyes. I'm so worried about you, Cole."  
  
_     There was a pressure on his hand like someone was holding it, but Cole couldn't bring himself to wake up fully. He was still very tired.  
  
    When Cole woke up again, he felt that it was only a short time later. He was hot. Very hot. It felt like his skin was about to burst into flames and he was being smothered beneath the heavy layers of blankets across his body. Letting out a soft moan, Cole shifted but quickly froze as pain raced through his limbs like lightning. Sweat broke out on his forehead and he groaned again, loud enough to bring someone rushing into the room.  
  
    "Cole? Cole? Are you awake, hun?" His mother. Cole opened his eyes, glad to note that the room was dim, but he grimaced when he opened his mouth to speak.  
  
    "Hot." He croaked, just loud enough to be heard; his throat felt like it had been rubbed with sandpaper for hours. He felt his mom grasp his hand and pass a hand over his forehead.  
  
    "Oh, Cole. Thank goodness." She pulled down his covers to his waist, but didn't remove them completely. "You've been out for nearly a day. Your wounds weren't bad enough for the hospital, but you've gotten a bad fever. If it doesn't let up by tomorrow, I'll take you to the hospital." Cole groaned again, this time in protest. He _hated_ the hospital, especially since the doctors there tended to believe that he was being abused when his mom brought him in for injuries like these. Speaking of which.... Cole mentally assessed his body, which was quite difficult to do with a woozy head, but he managed it well enough. His back was throbbing viciously and his right leg instinctively felt like it was fully prepared to be attacked with knives if he even _thought_ about moving it. He was relieved to discover that he didn't feel as exhausted as he had before, but now his body felt like it was simultaneously burning and shivering with cold. His torso, which had been so hot before, now felt clammy with cold sweat. He figured that was the work of the fever.  
  
    "What happened, Cole?" The thin boy watched his mom carefully, feeling his heart squeeze painfully in his chest as he did so. She looked so worried, so frightened, and he couldn't help but notice the dark circles under her eyes and the way she clutched at his hand as if he was going to disappear at any moment. She deserved a straight answer. Weakly, he raised an arm, gesturing to his throat. His throat was too dry to talk, and he was so thirsty. As if reading his mind, she picked up a cup from his nightstand, held it up to his lips, and bent the straw to his mouth so he could drink. Eagerly, Cole sucked it down, relishing the feel of the cool liquid soothing his burning throat.

    "What happened, Cole?" The thin boy watched his mom carefully, feeling his heart squeeze painfully in his chest as he did so. She looked so worried, so frightened, and he couldn't help but notice the dark circles under her eyes and the way she clutched at his hand as if he was going to disappear at any moment. She deserved a straight answer. Weakly, he raised an arm, gesturing to his throat. His throat was too dry to talk, and he was so thirsty. As if reading his mind, she picked up a cup from his nightstand, held it up to his lips, and bent the straw to his mouth so he could drink. Eagerly, Cole sucked it down, relishing the feel of the cool liquid soothing his burning throat.  
  
    Finally, he leaned back, licking his dry lips. "It was a ghost," he started, staring down at his bed sheet. "I took on her case about two weeks ago, but with everything that was happening with Erin... I forgot to work on it. I guess she was angry, but I never expected her to be so violent. Sara saved me; she distracted the other ghost and let me get away to run to Erin's house." Cole shrugged. Not a very detailed account, but he didn't think that his mom needed to hear _how_ Amber had hurt him.  
  
    He was startled when his mother's eyes suddenly filled with tears and she bent her head to rest it against Cole's hand on the covers. "Oh Cole! Why do you do this? You _always_ do this! Why can't you just... It was so frightening, getting that call from the Kinley's, and when I came home you were so pale and in pain. There was blood everywhere, on the floor and on the walls, and knew - I just _knew_! - that it was all yours, and it nearly broke my heart! I just... I just want-"  
  
    She broke off, falling silent as she held his hand and cried over it. Cole watched with horror and guilt rising in him like a tidal wave. _She doesn't deserve this._ "I- I know, mom, I want that too… but we can't. This won't just go away and I can't ignore it or else things will get worse. It would be like it was before Dr. Crowe came and told me the Solution. I'm sorry... but I can't stop being who I am."  
  
    "I know, hun, I know..."

     As it turned out, his fever broke that night and with the pain pills his mom gave him, he was able to sleep through the night and well into the morning. He felt much better when he woke and his mom called in to the school to pull him out for the rest of the week. His mom also took the week off from work, intensely worried about his safety, but Amber didn’t show any sign of making an appearance. Then again, neither did Sarah. Cole knew it was only a matter of time.

     Erin tried to visit several times, but it was awkward and tense between them. She now knew that his mom wasn’t abusing him, but at the same time, she could tell that he wasn’t going to tell her what really happened anytime soon. It was after such a visit on Thursday afternoon when everything changed again.

     Cole was sitting on the couch in the living room working on his case book when the doorbell rang. He heard his mom answer it.

     “Hello, are you Cole’s mother?” A vaguely familiar voice asked. His mom answered cautiously in the affirmative. “I’m James Parker, Cole’s counselor at school. I brought some of his homework over for him that Erin had forgotten and I wanted to check up on him. Is it alright if I come in?” Cole froze.

     “Y-yes, I suppose.” Lynn sounded flustered as she invited him in. James entered the living room a second later, his brown eyes warm and concerned as they fixed on Cole. The slender teen was completely confused. No one at any of his other schools had ever done anything like this before, even if he had been gone for a whole week. Granted, nothing like this had ever happened to this extent, but still…

     “Hello, Cole,” James said quietly, taking a seat across from him.

     “Hello, si- James,” he replied, adjusting the blanket over his legs nervously.

     “Erin came to my office today and told me what happened. She is very worried about you, but I think we were both relieved to know for sure that our earlier suspicions weren’t true.” His gaze was intense. Cole avoided looking up as he made a noncommittal sound. “Of course, that leaves the question of what really happened…”

     Cole didn’t respond, but he managed to raise his eyes and meet the man’s gaze squarely.

     “Can I get you something to drink, Mr. Parker?” Lynn broke in, with a glance at her son.

     “Yes, please, Mrs. Sear, and call me James,” he said with a warm smile. Lynn blushed faintly and became flustered again.

     “Oh, it’s only Lynn, please, James. My husband passed away years ago.”

     “I’m sorry to hear that.” She left the room and they were left in silence. “Cole,” James said gently, “would you like to tell me what happened? You were hurt very badly and I’m worried about you.”

     Again, the overwhelming need to tell the kind man washed over Cole and he opened his mouth, but at the last second he resisted the urge. “I-I’m sorry, sir, I can’t. It’s a secret that doesn’t concern you, and I’m dealing with it.” At James’ pointed look, Cole gave a sheepish laugh. “As best as I can, anyway. Don’t worry about me.”

     “You know very well that I can’t help that, Cole,” James chuckled.

     “I keep telling him the same thing,” Cole’s mom said as she entered the living room with a couple of glasses of iced tea. They chatted for a little bit, while Cole watched them, familiar by now with the subtle dance of flirtation. He wasn’t sure how he felt about James hanging around here because on the one hand James was very kind and fun, but he had also taken an interest in Cole’s situation, which could be dangerous if he planned on protecting his secret.

     Eventually, Cole excused himself to the bathroom, setting aside his case book and grabbing his crutches before hobbling from the room. The muscles of his right leg were still very tender from his hip’s collision with the table. While he washed his hands, he looked up in the mirror. The marks from Amber’s first attack had faded long ago, but the effects of this most recent attack still lingered. The faint circles around his eyes made him look pale and he was thinner than before. He shrugged to himself and looked away. It could be worse.

     He slowly returned to the living room, freezing when his mother called out to him. “Cole, can you check the heater please? I think it went out again.” Now that he thought about it, he could feel the chilliness in the air, and he could hear the faint note of panic in her tone. He knew that it wasn’t Amber, at least, since there wasn’t any ice anywhere, but he steeled himself anyway. He entered the room.

     “I think we just forgot to turn up the heater this morning, mom. I’ll turn it up.” He responded, moving to the small box on the wall to do just that. When he turned around, however, he couldn’t suppress the gasp of surprise that left him. Lounging against the wall next to James’ chair in a casual pose was a tall, black-haired man in a crisp black suit, an unlit cigarette in his mouth.

     “Cole, dear, what’s wrong?” Lynn asked, panic clouding her features. James looked between the two of them narrowly, confused but concerned.

     “N-nothing, mom,” Cole replied shakily, tearing his eyes away from the new ghost.

     “Oh, so I’m nothing now, am I?” The ghost said, watching Cole like a hawk. “I’ll have you know that I’m an elite member of the NYPD’s detective force, kid. Just ‘cause I’m dead doesn’t mean I’m nothin’.”

     Cole rubbed his temple, trying to ignore the ghost and focus on the adult’s conversation. His mother was trying to smooth things over, he thought, but James’ intense gaze was still boring into him. He lowered his hands with a tense smile, trying to appear normal. The ghost moved away from the wall, coming closer to Cole and leaning against the armrest next to him.

     “Huh, so you’re the one I’m looking for, eh?” He grumbled. “I’m shot and dying in the street and this is the first place I have to come for help. You’re just a kid!” Cole couldn’t help himself; his head jerked around so fast he thought he might get whiplash. Had he heard right?

     “ _What?_ ” He blurted, unthinking.

     “Cole, what is it? What’s going on?” James was asking, suspicious. Lynn latched onto his arm tightly, drawing his attention away from Cole

     “Oh, i-it’s nothing, James. Cole is just- er, well…”

     “Oh, so _now_ you’re interested,” the ghost huffed.

     “What are you talking about? You can’t be- it’s impossible!” Cole said, completely ignoring the adults now.

“Oh, this is coming from a kid who can see spirits.” He rolled his eyes. “If it wasn’t possible, how could I be standing _here_ when my _body_ is on Hartford Street? Don’t ask me how, kid, I just tell it how it is. I’m still alive out there.”

     “Wait, how is it that you’re aware?” Cole asked cautiously. Many times it took _years_ before a ghost realized they were dead.

     “I’m a _cop_ , you idiot!” The man snapped. “I know death when I see it and I’m damn near close to it! Why are you just sitting here?”

     “Fine, fine! No need to shout.” Cole exclaimed. He turned his attention to his mom, who was looking frantic by now. “Mom, we have to go to Hartford Street. _Now_.”

     “What is it?” She asked even as she jumped up to grab her keys.

     “I’ll explain on the way.” He responded, already hobbling on his crutches to the door.

     “What about him?” His mom whispered, jerking her head toward James, who was watching them with a supremely confused expression.

     “Bring him!” Cole said impatiently. “Come on, Mr. Parker, if you really want to know what’s going on.” They piled into the car – the ghost was already inside – and Lynn sped toward Hartford Street.

     “I’m beginning to think that this all has something to do with Cole getting hurt,” James said blandly from the backseat.

     “You’d be right,” Lynn said flippantly. “What’s happening, Cole?”

     “It’s a new ghost,” he began. “He says that he’s a detective from New York and that he’s still alive. He’s been shot on Hartford Street.”

     “He’s still _alive_? Cole, we’ve never dealt with something like this before.” Lynn said incredulously. “Is he having an out-of-body experience, or what?”

     “Something like that. He says he’s near death, so I guess it’s possible... Turn left here, mom.” They turned down Hartford Street, a narrow road that was more of an alley than an actual street. She stopped the car and they all got out.

     “Where is he?” Lynn asked, walking around a telephone pole and past a dumpster. She glanced behind it and stumbled backward with a choked gasp. Cole and James quickly reached her side as she pressed her hands over her mouth as if to suppress a scream. There, lying crumpled next to the filthy dumpster, was the body of the ghost currently standing next to Cole. James cursed under his breath, moving away from the body instinctively.

     “Well, they certainly did a number on me, didn’t they?” The ghost said bemusedly. Cole didn’t respond. He approached the body and leaned down, pressing his fingers firmly into the side of the man’s bruised throat searching for a pulse. His heart jumped to his throat when he felt that it was there, faint and very weak. He straightened.

     “Yeah, he’s telling the truth. He’s alive.”

* * *

     “What in the blazes is going on here?” James demanded finally, looking between Cole and his mother. Cole ignored him.

     “Here, mom, get out your cell phone. Call 911 and leave an anonymous tip. Try to sound panicked if you can, but tell them to hurry as fast as possible.” Lynn shakily followed his orders, dialing the emergency number and holding the phone against her ear.

     “Hello, 911? You have to come quickly; I-I found… Oh my God, he’s bleeding! You have to hurry, I found a man on-on H-Hartford Street. He’s next to a dumpster and he’s bleeding real badly… No, no, I don’t know who he is! Yes, he’s _dying_! You have to hurry as fast as you can! Please!” She hung up, wiping her eye surreptitiously as she tucked the phone away again.

     “Hurry, we need to get away from here; there’s no way we can explain this without sounding suspicious. Come on…” Cole prompted.

     “Hey, what the heck? You’re just going leave my body there, dying?” The ghost complained, scowling.

     “Will you shut up?” Cole groaned exasperatedly. “You’ll be fine for five more minutes.”

     “Says you. I don’t trust the opinion of anyone without an M.D., kid, and I don’t trust most of those either.” Cole just shook his head. They got into the car and drove slowly back to Cole’s house, passing a screaming ambulance on the way. The silence was tense and strained between the adults and didn’t let up until they were back in the living room with a couple of glasses of bourbon. Cole, of course, was fine.

     “Start from the beginning.” James demanded almost immediately after his first drink, his eyes focused intently on Cole and the short glass held tightly in his hand. Cole sighed, but started to explain.

     “I have this… gift. Or curse, you could say. Ever since I was little, I’ve been able to see spirits of the dead. Ghosts, if you will. I used to be really afraid of them because they looked scary and said scary things and I didn’t know what to do. Sometimes they would hurt me.”

James interrupted with a surprised noise, his expression registering his shock. Cole nodded. “Yeah, that’s what happened to me last week. Ghosts have always been able to touch me, and I guess they’re just drawn to me. Something inside them knows that I can see them. Once, when I was ten, the ghost of a psychiatrist came to me and started helping me learn what I was supposed to do with this gift. I’m supposed to help them pass on by solving the things that keep them tied to the Earth. A last message, knowledge of how they died, something like that. I’ve helped hundreds of people pass on since I discovered The Solution.”

“How do I know that you’re telling the truth?” James asked, his face blank. “Maybe both of you need to see some sort of counselor.” Lynn gasped, but Cole merely shrugged.

“Hey,” he said, indicating the new ghost sitting comfortably in an armchair across the room. “Can you come over and stand next to James for a second? Yell something really loudly in his ear if you want to.” He returned his attention back to the school counselor, who still looked somewhat skeptical, and ignored the ghost’s grumblings.

“When a ghost is near, you can feel the room get colder. Sometimes you can see your breath, even if it’s the middle of the summer.” Cole said quietly, his voice measured and monotone. “The little hairs on your arms and the back of your neck will stand up. Your teeth are set on edge. And if you listen really closely, sometimes you can hear them.”

Just then, James shivered a split second before the ghost shouted, “ _Can you hear me now?_ ” James jerked away with a surprised shout but Cole just rolled his eyes at the choice of words. To James’ ears, of course, the shout would have sounded very faint and distant, but the fact was that he could hear it.

“What the hell?” James breathed, holding a hand to his heart and looking around frantically as if to see who had shouted.

“Don’t worry, he can’t touch you.” Cole reassured him. “They can’t even affect inanimate objects unless they’re angry enough.” It didn’t seem to help; James was still frozen. Lynn reached over and patted his knee.

“It’s a shock at first, but don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

“Right,” James said blankly. “But I thought this guy was alive? How could he be a ghost?”

“That’s what makes this case so different,” Cole explained. “He’s having a near-death experience. We’ve never had one of those before. He might leave in a couple of hours or he might stick around until his body is healed enough to return to it.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, kid, I’m staying with you. There’s no point in hanging around some half-dead body while the doctors work on me. When I’m like this, I can still solve my case.”

“Why do you need to stay with me to do that?” Cole asked incredulously.

“Are you kidding me? I’m still a _ghost_ , kid, I have no substance.” He waved his hand through the lamp on the side table in prove his point. The light flickered. “Can’t exactly detect things that I can’t touch. Besides, you’re the only one around who can hear me. I’d get bored if I didn’t have anyone to talk to.”

“I can tell,” Cole grumbled under his breath. “Well, if you’re going to stay, we need to know your name.”

“Luke. I came here a month ago following a case and I guess I got too close to solving it. Someone who I thought was an informant for me ended up shooting me.” Cole relayed this information to the others.

“Luke, I’m Cole, this is my mom Lynn, and my school counselor James. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you just yet. Not only am I injured, but I’ve already got a case that’s taken first priority.”

“You do? What- er, I mean, _who_ is it?” James asked, looking rather surprised that he was asking such a question.

“A girl named Amber Williams.”

“Amber?” James repeated, paling. “But- I knew who she was! She came to me a few times before she died, but no one knows why she committed suicide. Why is she a ghost?”

“Most suicides actually end up being ghosts, usually because the reason they killed themselves in the first place is holding them back.” Cole explained. “Her boyfriend dumped her after he found out she was pregnant.”

“Oh no,” James said with a pained expression. “Was she the one that hurt you?” Cole nodded but didn’t elaborate.

“Does Erin know about this whole… thing?” Cole blinked at him.

“No, of course not!” He burst out.

“Look, can we focus on _me_ for a second?” The ghost, Luke, interrupted and Cole sent him a glare.

“I already told you: I can’t help you right now. You might as well go check on your body and bother someone else for a few days.” The air abruptly became far colder and Cole only had to see a wisp of his breath to know that he had gone too far. Lynn froze in fear.

“Now look here, kid,” Luke began, his voice dangerously low, “This case is more important than any small-town crap you’re dealing with. People’s _lives_ may be at stake! Don’t push me, kid; I can force you to help me, especially when you’re the only one that can see or hear me. Do you understand me?” Cole swallowed hard, feeling his tongue stick to the back of his dry throat, but he had to take a stand.

“Crystal. But you don’t understand me.” He said quietly. “I need at least one day, maybe two, to solve this other case or else we’ll both have our hands full with a homicidal ghost. I need you to give me at least that long.” A tense silence fell over the room as the two stared at each other, evaluating and calculating.

“Fine.” Luke eventually snapped, thrusting a hand forward to shake. Lynn and James watched in consternation as Cole reached out to grasp hold of an invisible hand. “I’m holding you to two days at the latest.” Luke warned and Cole nodded in understanding.

“It’s a deal.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things happen very quickly, and the story ends very abruptly.

The matter of Amber’s boyfriend was actually solved quite simply. Cole enlisted Luke’s help in supernaturally trashing Johnny McDaniel’s house to frighten him a bit. Since Cole was still too injured to move much, he called Johnny after the damage was complete and very calmly left Amber’s message. He ignored all panicked epithets or pleadings that quickly assaulted his ears. It took quite a bit more work to track down the whereabouts of the rest of Amber’s family since they had moved several times to different states. It wasn’t until mid-afternoon of the second day—without breaks— that he was finally able to trace the William’s to their supposed current address. Cole called, just to make sure.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice answered on the third ring.

“Hello, is this the number of Amber Williams’ family?” Cole asked. There was a long pause on the other end.

“Yes, who is this?”

“I have a package that Amber wants your family to have in order to bring you closure.” Cole said, ignoring the question. “May I send it to this address?”

“Wait, what do you mean Amber ‘wants’ us to have it?” The woman asked, her voice breaking slightly. “What package?”

“Should I send her final belongings to this address?”

“Y-yes, I suppose, but-“

“Good. You can expect it within the week. I’m sorry for your loss.” He hung up, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had finally solved one of his most dangerous cases yet; hopefully, he wouldn’t see Amber William’s ever again. Slowly, leaning on his crutches heavily, he descended the stairs and settled into a chair beside the kitchen table. He dropped his head onto his arms with a loud sigh.

“Cole? What’s wrong, honey?” Lynn asked, trying to keep the worry from her voice as she wiped her hands on a towel and came over to rub the tense muscles of his neck. The warm smell of the chicken spiced with oregano that she was making for dinner filled the kitchen and made Cole’s stomach rumble noticeably.

“I’m finished.” He mumbled into his arms. “We can send the box tomorrow—overnight, if possible. Then maybe she won’t come back.”

“Oh Cole…” Lynn sighed. “I’m so proud of you.” Cole remained silent, soaking in the warmth his mother was giving him. Only a few minutes later, they were interrupted by the doorbell ringing. Lynn straightened and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear self-consciously.

“Oh, that must be James.” She said, not noticing Cole rolling his eyes as she hurried to the door to let the man in. He had insisted on coming over for dinner when he heard that Luke would be visiting again that night, but Cole wasn’t sure how he felt about it. It had been too early to tell what James really thought about the situation two nights ago and Cole was worried that the counselor would decide that they were insane and report them to the police or something. When he entered the kitchen, however, James didn’t seem like he was considering calling psychiatrists the moment dinner was over.

“Hello, Cole, how are you?” He asked cheerfully enough.

“I’m fine, Mr.—James. Just tired.”

“I’ll bet.”

A dark cloud seemed to pass over James’ face and he looked Cole over, concern darkening his deep blue eyes. Cole felt a burst of warmth at the care the man obviously felt for him and his reassuring smile came a bit easier. The darkness passed from James’ expression and he smiled warmly again, reaching out to clasp Cole’s shoulder. Cole was a bit under average for other kids his age, but for some reason it didn’t bother him as much as it usually did to have to look up slightly to meet James’ eyes.

“It smells delicious, Lynn,” James said, turning to compliment his mother and pulling out a chair for her to sit. She blushed.

“Thank you so much, James.” She replied appreciatively, leaning forward to serve him. The conversation was kept light, skimming over their move to Oakridge, workplace stories, and Cole’s education.

“Your grades are very good, Cole. I was impressed with the way that you have juggled school with your… er, extracurricular activities.”

“Yes, Cole does very well.” Lynn said. “He inhales books more than air, sometimes, and he keeps himself busy. I’m very proud of him.”

Cole shrugged. “I like to read. I didn’t use to, but I sort of had to because of my gift, so I learned how to deal with it. After a while, I found out that I liked reading. I still hate research, though.”

James opened his mouth to ask a question, but Cole was suddenly distracted by a sound behind him. Turning his head, he just caught a glimpse of a familiar blue dress before it whipped around the corner of the hallway, as if they didn’t want to be seen. Cole’s blue eyes widened in surprise.

“Excuse me,” he said hastily as he pushed his chair back and rounded the corner. There, just outside the entrance to the dining room, was Sara pressed to the wall of the hallway. Her arms were held tightly to her sides and her small hands grasped the fabric near her thighs. Her head was down, the long, soft brown hair creating a curtain around her face, and her shoulders were hunched. Even though twinges of pain raced up and down his leg at the motion, Cole dropped gracefully to his knees in front of the little girl, careful to keep his hands on his knees.

“Sara?” He asked softly, bending his head to her level. She didn’t move. “Sara, what’s wrong? I’ve missed you since you left—I was worried that something that happened to you. Are you hurt?” Finally, a reaction; she shook her head. Cole smiled faintly, relieved.

“I’m glad. I wanted to thank you for helping me; you saved my life and I can’t thank you enough for that. Is there anything I can do for you, Sara?” The little girl finally looked up through her bangs with a shy smile, shaking her head, and Cole smiled in response. Sara raised her arms up, giving him a pleading look, and Cole laughed softly. He leaned close and pulled her into a swift hug before standing and smoothly swinging her around to a piggy-back position on his back. Goosebumps raced over his skin and he automatically repressed a shiver as her cold limbs encircled his torso tightly and her hoarse giggle sounded in his ear.

As a ghost, Sara weighed very little to him. In fact, there was barely enough weight for him to tell that she was there, which he felt incredibly grateful for. This was one of her favorite activities and no doubt his weakened muscles wouldn’t have been able to stand up to the weight of a flesh-and-blood child.

“Cole? What’s going on, hun?” Lynn called from the dining room and Cole bounced Sara lightly on his back as he returned to the dinner table. The adults gave him strange looks at his posture; his arms linked under non-existent limbs and his back hunched with a phantom weight, but he ignored that.

“Sara’s back!” He announced cheerfully, jiggling the girl a little bit, and Lynn’s expression cleared with recognition.

“Oh, that’s wonderful! Welcome back, dear,” she said in the vicinity of Cole’s back. Cole heard Sara’s hoarse giggle again and smiled himself. Lynn leaned over to whisper to James. “Sara is the ghost of a little girl. She has never spoken and all she can write is her name—she came to Cole about six months after we moved here and she enjoys spending time with him. He says she doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to get to the other side.”

An odd expression came over James’ face as he listened to Lynn’s explanation and watched Cole gallop a short ways and turn his head to laugh with someone they couldn’t see. It was as if seeing Cole interact with Sara opened his mind to the true nature of Cole’s gift. He realized that not all ghosts were violent beings in their last throes of death, but rather they were as varied and sentient as they had been when they were alive. And yet, rather than being repulsed by Cole’s gift, he was actually quite intrigued.

“Really? Cole, have you tried to form any other kind of communication with her? Sign language, perhaps? Does she give any clue as to the time period she had lived in?” Although Cole normally tensed up when people questioned him too much about his secret, he found that he actually didn’t mind; it was actually a huge relief to have been able to tell someone about his secret, even if it was under conditions he wouldn’t have normally preferred. He shook his head.

“No, I haven’t, but I don’t know how much good it would do. Even if she is decades old, her mind and body is still frozen in an eight-year-old’s body. Her mind doesn’t age or learn the same way that living children do—she probably wouldn’t be able to retain what I try to teach her. And no, I don’t have any idea when she lived.” James nodded slowly, looking faintly disappointed but still intensely interested as he absently rubbed the band of metal on his middle finger with his thumb.

“Does Sara being back mean that Amber is gone?” Lynn suddenly asked, hope brightening her features. “You said that Sara had left when the other girl had, didn’t you?”

“Oh, I didn’t think of that. What do you think, Sara?” Cole turned his head questioningly to meet Sara’s eye, trying to hide the anxiety he felt as he waited for her answer. She nodded happily and smiled, showing a missing baby tooth. Cole grinned and pulled her around for another hug before letting her slide down to the floor.

“Yeah, Amber’s moved on.” He said, smiling gently at his mother’s relieved reaction. James reached over to pat her slumped shoulder, a faintly sad expression on his face. “Don’t worry,” Cole added, “She’s in a much better place now. She’s at peace.” Lynn nodded and James murmured an agreement. Eventually, they returned to their dinner (Cole pulled out a chair for Sara to join like she had countless times before despite the fact that she couldn’t eat anything) and afterwards took drinks into the living room for a more comfortable discussion.

“So, who else knows?” James asked.

“No one. Cole was about ten when he told me. I… didn’t react well. I had always known that Cole was different and I knew that what he was telling me was true, but I didn’t know how to handle it. I dragged him to all sorts of psychiatrists and psychics until I finally realized that he was able to deal with it on his own.”

“I had never really known what was happening to me.” Cole added. “I knew that I could see and hear and touch ghosts when no one else could, but I was pretty helpless. I didn’t know why or how it was happening to me—I still don’t know—and I didn’t know what to do. It was a very dark time for both of us.”

“How did you find out what to do?” James asked, looking deeply interested by their story. His drink was forgotten on the coffee table, his hands steepled near his chin and his deep brown eyes fixed intently on whoever was speaking.

“It was the ghost of Malcolm Crowe, a child psychologist who had been killed by one of his former patients that he couldn’t help. He didn’t know he was dead, like most ghosts, but he tried to help me. He was… very kind and understanding.” Cole’s eyes were warm and sad, and James was suddenly struck by the maturity in the teen’s gaze. Cole had always seemed too old for his age to James, much like the other adults had sensed, but the depth of the knowledge and understanding that the slender boy held was astounding and somewhat awe-inspiring. In this area, James felt like Cole was the teacher and adult, while James was a mere child.

“He helped me discover The Solution,” Cole continued, “And gave me a purpose with my gift. I help ghosts find their peace and move on to the other side.”

“And yet, no matter how many ghosts you help move on, there will always be more. A world full of ghosts. It must be very difficult sometimes.” _And when will you find your own peace?_ James wondered silently to himself, feeling a deep respect and sadness for what Cole was facing for the rest of his life. Cole looked down at his knees, his lips tight and his eyes shuttered. He didn’t reply. Sara pressed close to his side, petting his hand lightly.

James felt like he should stop asking questions, but he couldn’t stop himself from blurting out another one. “How many people have you helped?”

“Three hundred and forty-four.” Cole responded promptly. “Someone comes two or three times a month.”

James couldn’t stop himself from staring a bit at that and a ghost of a smirk twitched at Cole’s mouth. _Three hundred and forty-four?_ James couldn’t really comprehend that number, so he focused on the other thing that had caught his attention. “What do you mean, someone ‘comes’?”

Cole hesitated, not used to revealing so much about his gift at one time. There were still some things that not even his mother knew that he didn’t want to reveal. This seemed harmless enough, so he answered.

“Well, there are ghosts everywhere—on the street, in the store, at the park—all going about their business because they don’t even know that they’re dead. They’re in denial, sort of, and they see only what they want to see. When they ‘wake up’, they start to realize that something’s wrong and something draws them to me. Something in them knows that I can help them. Luckily, that sense seems to be limited to a certain area around me—it would really suck if someone from Germany woke up and tried to get me to help them. I’ve already had to learn Spanish for that reason.”

“Really?”

Cole shrugged. It was a necessity. Suddenly, Sara tensed at his side and, instinctively, he turned his head to the corner of the room. A familiar tall, lean figure stood there, his hands buried in his pockets.

“Yo, kid.”

“Luke.” Cole responded coolly. Lynn and James blinked in confusion. “You’re right on time.” The detective prowled forward, a coiled strength in his movements that reminded Cole of an agitated tiger.

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly willing to waste any more time. You better have kept your part of the bargain, kid.”

Cole nodded, his eyes hardening. “I have. And my name isn’t ‘kid’, it’s Cole.”

“I really couldn’t care less what your name is, kid. I’m not here to become buddies with you. Now are we gonna sit here playing patty-cake or what?”

“Fine. Let’s get started.” Cole said through gritted teeth, turning back to the adults in the room. “Jerk.” He muttered under his breath.

“Excuse me, I need to get to work with Luke’s case. I’ll be in my room. It was nice to see you again, James. I’ll see you on Monday.” Looking startled but concerned, he nodded.

“It was nice to see you, too, Cole. Good luck.” Cole left the two together and gathered his crutches up to navigate the stairs, motioning for Luke to follow him. Sara had never taken her eyes off of Luke throughout the whole exchange and now she scampered past Cole and up the stairs to his room. Luke glanced around the room in a bored manner as Cole gathered up his case book and sat at his desk.

“Nice digs.” Luke commented, scanning the titles of the books on Cole’s bookshelf before being distracted by Sara’s cautious stare from where she sat at the head of Cole’s bed. “And who’re you, little lady? Wonder Boy’s little sister?” She shook her head minutely.

“Her name is Sara; she’s a mute ghost. And she’s my friend, not my sister.” Cole answered for her, barely glancing up as he outlined Luke’s case in his notebook. Ghosts weren’t normally able to see other ghosts, but he guessed that this was another part of this unique case. “Alright. Let’s start from the beginning. Why are you here?”

Cole had to admit that it was nice to talk intelligently with a ghost who was fully aware of the situation and not concerned with understanding precisely how or why he was currently separated from his body. Cole’s pen flew across the page as Luke succinctly described just how he came to be in Oakridge.

He had been assigned to a case involving a high-rolling CEO of a major corporation in New York who had gotten involved in some dirty money, Luke explained. The man had been known to deal in some pretty shady things before—though the man’s lawyers had been sure to point out that nothing could be proven.

“The man’s name is Leopold Aston,” Luke growled, his eyes narrowing. “He’s the type of big shot who thinks he owns the world. Cocky bastard. He’s got his own little mini-mob set up to bribe and threaten other big shots, but his first little foray into murder was sloppy. There was a witness who was close enough to hear Aston’s name mentioned, but we didn’t have time to get an official statement from him before he was dead. I’ve been on the case for four months now and there’ve been six more similar murders, most of them family members or high-class whores to some powerful people.

“I’m here because I… _encouraged_ a man working for Aston to tell me where to find some solid evidence. He said that Aston had a summer home here that he used as a base of operations, if you will. It’s illegal to search the house without a warrant—which we didn’t have—so I decided to take some sick days and I got a hold of someone with information. Well, you know what happened there.”

“And what can _I_ do?” Cole asked skeptically. “I find it hard to believe that a teenager can help solve a high-profile case like this. _You_ practically got killed and you’re a cop!”

“Well, I didn’t exactly have an invisible, intangible friend who could look out for me, did I?” Luke asked with a wolfish grin. Cole’s eyes widened and he held up his hands, his heart starting to race.

“Woah woah, wait a minute here! You can’t be serious? You expect me to break into a house full of criminals and—and _murderers_ and steal stuff for you? I’ll get _killed_! Why don’t you just wait until your body gets better?”

Luke scowled, taking the unlit cigarette from his teeth and pointing it at Cole. “Look here, kid, my body’s in a coma. The docs say that it could be weeks until I wake up and there would be months of rehabilitation after that. I don’t have _time_ to wait until I’m better. I’m the only one on the force that knows everything about this case and innocent people are just going to keep dying if we don’t get the jump on this thing. There isn’t the time or manpower for someone else to pick up where I’ve left off.” He saw that Cole still looked unconvinced and sighed.

“Look, ki— _Cole_. Two of the victims were children. A ten-year-old boy named Andy was violated with the handle of a baseball bat before his legs and arms were broken and his throat cut. A little girl no older than Sara over there was strangled with her own intestines and left in the sandbox in her backyard. You want to be responsible for any more deaths like that? These are sick people that Aston has hired, Cole; the filthiest dregs of New York. We don’t have time to waste.”

Cole had shrunk away from Luke as he was speaking, barely even noticing the sharp edge of his desk jabbing into his ribs as he stared at the older man in horror. His face was pale, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead, and nausea roiled in his stomach. Unable to hold Luke’s intense gaze, Cole looked down and pressed his lips together in a hard line in an attempt to calm his body and emotions. He raised a trembling hand to wipe his forehead and swallowed hard. Cole had seen terrible things in his life and unfortunately it was all too easy for him to imagine what that little girl would look like or how the boy would sound as he pleaded with Cole for help if he was a ghost.

This was big, bigger than anything that Cole had ever dealt with before. Sure, he had had to work with police before, to lie in order to explain how he had found crucial evidence to a case they had been working on, but this…. This was different. There had never been more physical danger to himself in any case that he had ever worked on, from both ghosts or humans. But could he really say no? Could he ignore the crime and evil deeds that were taking place in Oakridge? Could he live with himself if others died because he was too frightened? He knew the answers to these questions even as he asked them. He had really seen far too much death to even consider standing by and letting another tortured soul wander the Earth.

He looked back up at Luke, a weary determination turning his eyes into molten chips of sapphire. “Okay, I’m with you. What do I need to do?” Luke smiled grimly.

* * *

“First of all, you’ll probably need a disguise of some sort whenever you’re working in a danger zone—wherever Aston’s cronies are hanging around. No point in busting these guys if they can identify you later and take revenge. So the basics: wig, sunglasses, gloves, the works. Next, you need to go to the hotel where I was staying and get my stuff from my room and check me out. No way am I paying for a room when my body’s in a hospital bed.”

“Won’t the police already have your stuff? You were shot two days ago; they probably already found out where you were staying.”

“Good thinking, kid, but no dice.” Luke grunted. “Once they found my badge in my clothes, they have to wait until someone from the department is sent over to brief them and release the case of my shooting to them.”

“So the people from New York would take all of your information about the Aston case and then the police here would have the job of finding out who shot you?”

“Right in one. Only thing is that we’re not going to leave anything for my people to find. All the case files are going to be kept here in case we need them, which means that you need to get over to my room before they get here.” Cole glanced at his watch.

“It’s after nine now. Isn’t that a bit late?”

Luke held up a finger. “One of the first rules about police work: it’s never too late.” He recited with a devilish grin. Cole groaned and rolled his eyes.

“We’d better get going, then. I’m going to need help from my mom, though, with these crutches….”

“Nah, you’re mom’s no good.” Luke broke in dismissively. “No offense, kid, but your mom spooks too easy. It’s the same reason why you don’t tell her about the cases you take on; she wouldn’t be able to deal with it. Better to ask that James fellow—he looks like he’s got a good head on his shoulders. Smart and quick enough to deal with breaking and entering and disguises and such.” Cole frowned, not liking that he had to keep so much from his mom, but he had to admit that the ghost was right. He loved his mother, but he didn’t want to have to involve her in something as dangerous as this.

“Okay, I’ll ask James about it.”

“Better do it now, kid, he’s gonna leave soon.” Luke warned. “You need help carrying my stuff.” Cole nodded and made his way down the stairs as quickly as he could, ignoring his crutches. He wouldn’t need them much longer anyway at the rate his body was healing. In the living room, his mom and James were lingering at the door to the entrance hall, still talking. Both of them turned when he entered the room.

“Oh, Cole, I was just going to come to tell you that James was leaving,” Lynn said, smiling faintly at Cole. Cole could barely muster a smile in return and Lynn’s expression faltered in worry. “Are you alright?”

“I-I’m fine, but I was wondering if I could talk to James?” Surprise flitted over the counselor’s face before it vanished.

“Of course, Cole. If you would excuse me?” He said to Lynn, who nodded and retreated into the kitchen. “What is it?”

“I need to ask you for a favor. Normally I don’t ask for help during a case, but with my leg…. I don’t know if I could do it on my own. I need to go to the hotel room that Luke was staying at and get his things from there tonight. Can you help me? I mean, I would understand if you can’t—you probably have things to do—and I would ask my mom, but she doesn’t really deal with these sort of things very well—”

“Cole, don’t worry about it,” James broke in, smiling. “I’m single and there’s not much to do here in Oakridge. I was going to go home and feed my dogs, but this sounds much more interesting.”

They left only five minutes later with a brief explanation to Lynn that left her wringing her hands on the porch despite his reassurances. Cole told James the shortened version of what Luke had told him on the way to the hotel, watching his reaction closely, and he thought he saw what Luke had claimed; James asked a few reasonable questions, but otherwise didn’t seem perturbed with what he was dealing with.

Getting into Luke’s room was easy enough; James acted like he was a friend of Luke’s and explained that Luke was in the hospital, asking for a spare key to get his things and check out. Within minutes, they were riding the elevator up to room 307.

“Wait here for a minute, kid,” Luke said quietly as James was retrieving the room key from his pocket and Cole quickly held his arm out across the older man’s body.

“Wait.” He murmured, his blue eyes intent as he watched Luke slip silently through the door. “Luke’s gone ahead to see if we are expected.” James took in a breath at that, startled at how calmly Cole was acting. His body was deceptively relaxed; James could feel the whip-chord strength and tenseness in the arm that held him back, and once more he marveled at this new side of the normally shy introvert.

Cole lowered his arm when Luke stuck his head back through the door and nodded. James took this as an affirmation and unlocked the door, swinging it open to reveal a cookie-cutter hotel room with few signs of habitation. There was a sleek metal briefcase placed neatly next to an opened suitcase—stuffed with rumpled clothing and travel essentials—that immediately caught Cole’s eye and he barely glanced at the pristine bathroom before he went over and picked it up. It was surprisingly heavy and everything from his right leg to the healing cuts on his back groaned in protest.

“Good. Keep that close, kid. Not even the shrink can touch that briefcase; got it?” Cole simply nodded minutely, straightening and taking in the rest of the room. The bed was a mass of rumpled sheets and a pair of black boxers hung over the edge of the mattress. There was a simple Zippo lighter next to a pack of cigarettes on the night table.

“Hmph. Not much for keeping tidy, are you Luke?” Cole grumbled, gingerly snatching up the boxers and stuffing them in the suitcase before attempting to zip it up.

“Hey, I’m a hard-working bachelor; messiness is an integral part of my life.” Luke defended lazily before perking up. “Don’t forget the cigs!”

“I’m not giving you those; they’re bad for you. It’s not like you can smoke them anyway—maybe you can detox while you’re in a coma.” James chuckled at that, deducing the subject of the one-sided conversation.

“You know he’s right, Luke. If that informant didn’t kill you, smoking will.”

Cole paused for a moment before a disgusted expression crossed his face.

“I don’t think you want to know what he says to that.” He said before picking up the lighter and slipping it into his pocket. “I’ll take the lighter, though. You never know when it could come in handy.”

“Smart.” The near-ghost replied grudgingly. “Hey, distract the shrink for a sec. There’s something you need to get. Taped to the inside of the lampshade is a key to the drawer in the night table. Get the things in there.”

“Can you check the closet, James? There’s a small box on the top shelf behind the extra pillows that Luke wants us to get.” The lie came out smoothly enough, though Cole didn’t like lying to his friend, and he ignored Luke’s praise for his quick-thinking. He deftly detached the key from the lampshade and unlocked the drawers, sliding it open as quickly as he could as he listened to James moving things around in the closet.

Inside the drawer was a small black handgun. A small box that he assumed was an extra clip lay beside it.

“Don’t sit there staring at it, Wonder Boy!” Luke hissed. “Grab it and stick it into the waistband of your boxers in the small of your back. There are holsters in the suitcase for later. The clip’s small enough to hold. Hurry.” With a grimace, Cole followed the instructions, managing to tuck it into his pants (he dearly hoped that the safety was on) and grab the clip before he heard James’ grunt of frustration.

“I don’t see anything, Cole. There’s no box.” He huffed.

“Luke says that he just remembered that he had moved it into this drawer. The pervert.” Cole said frowning in disgust. Beneath where the gun had lain was a pornographic magazine. “I’ll leave it in here for the next people to find. Honestly, Luke, do you have any sense of shame?”

“Hey, the nights are long in this dump of a town. Not even a decent pub or gentleman’s club here in Pleasantville. Don’t tell me you’re as pure as snow, either, kid. You’re a teenager; I’m sure you can appreciate a good mag to release some pressure.”

Cole couldn’t prevent the deep flush that spread over his cheeks and up to his hairline at that. He just jerked his head when James looked at him questioningly and didn’t answer. Despite what Luke assumed, Cole didn’t actually have as much experience in that area as normal teenagers. He hadn’t even had his first kiss yet and oftentimes he was so busy dealing with mutilated ghosts that he didn’t feel the urge to “release pressure”.

“Is there anything else in here?” Cole asked impatiently. Luke shrugged.

“Nah, that’s it. I’ve only been here for about two days.” Cole relayed the information and they were sure to lock the door behind them and check Luke out. He was sure to thank James for his help lugging the suitcase back to his house and to his room, still feeling very strange about talking so openly about his cases to a near stranger. Despite this, however, he felt strangely certain that he could trust the counselor; James had always been kind and fair to him both before and after he found out about Cole’s secret. From this experience, Cole almost wished that he could be so certain about Erin’s trustworthiness.

“So. What am I supposed to do with this?”

Cole lay stretched out on his rumpled bed covers, his pajama bottoms riding low on his hips and his undershirt hiking up his flat stomach as he laid his right arm across his forehead. His cobalt blue eyes stared, solemn but curious, at the black handgun he held up to the ceiling with his left hand. It was framed in the early morning light, glinting dully, and from the corner of his eye he could see Luke leaning his hip against his desk and staring out the window with an unreadable expression.

“You protect yourself.”

“Do you know how many people I’ve seen that have been killed with one of these?”

“Do you know how many people I’ve seen die before my eyes because of one of those?”

“You understand why I wouldn’t want to deal with it, then.”

“I’ve also seen people’s lives saved with one. More than have died, certainly. It’s a necessary evil.”

“Are you saying that I’ll need to use it one day?”

“I’m saying you can never be too careful.”

Blue eyes shifted to the side, knowing and cautious. “I don’t even know how to use one.”

“You point and pull the trigger.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I can teach you. I’m sure Pleasantville has a shooting range somewhere.”

“I’m not old enough to go there alone and I’m not involving James again. He wouldn’t approve of this. Can’t we just find a field with rusty cans?”

“And waste my bullets?” A derisive snort.

“Fine, fine. My mom will kill me when she finds out. You, too.”

“She’ll thank me when you end up saving her because of it. Until then, use the ankle holster.”

The slender teen sat up abruptly. “I’m not taking this to school! Are you insane?” Luke shrugged.

“It’s your skin.”

Cole shook his head firmly. “I’m not taking it to school. There’s no reason.”

“Fine, fine. You’d probably drop it in the halls or something, anyway.”

“I’m not _that_ stupid.”

“All kids are stupid.”

“I’m not a kid! I’m seventeen—a senior in high school.”

“Seventeen?” Luke grunted, actually looking surprised. “I woulda had you pegged for fourteen, fifteen. Scrawny for your age, aren’t you?”

Cole simply glared and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Leaving the gun under his pillow, he left the room to get ready for the day in the bathroom. He sighed and tried to let his mind run blank as the water from the shower poured over his head and down his body, making him shiver at the mix of hot liquid and cool air. He dried himself off afterwards and tied his towel securely around his waist before he caught his reflection in the mirror. He stared.

Luke was right. After everything that had happened to him in the past few weeks, a great deal of the padding he had had on his body was gone, leaving a skinny frame behind. His limbs were narrow but graceful and he noted that some of the softer curves of his hips and shoulders were now more pronounced; his collarbone seemed delicate and his hip bones thin and sharp as they led to the soft junction between his legs. He didn’t have any hair except at the base of his penis. He really did look like a prepubescent boy.

He turned around, noting that he could see the edge of his ribcage, and took stock of the damage done to his slender back. He had always known that there were thin scars lacing his torso from previous encounters with ghosts—especially on his back—but he winced at the wounds that were left by Amber. There were four long scratches gouged from his right shoulder down to his left side, the outer two more shallow and short than the middle two. They looked like they were healing well—the outer two were already the shiny pink of new skin—and he knew that within a couple of days he would probably have a new set of healed scars. Wounds caused by ghosts always healed fast.

Facing the mirror again, he sighed, fogging up the glass for a second as he leaned close. Around the faint scar on his right cheek and the dark smudges under his eyes, his skin was smooth and soft. It was an unhealthy color now; the pale peach-grey of a tan that had been suffocated with too much time indoors. His eyes seemed old, even to himself, but the intensity of the deep sapphire color had only increased over the years. There was a faint shadow lurking in the depths that he suddenly realized had been there as long as he could remember. His hair was straight and soft around his ears, more brown than gold except for the smattering of silver hairs at the top of his head. He pulled them out every time he saw them, but they seemed to be quickly growing in number until soon he would have a white streak in the fringe that he combed forward. He had read that hair lost pigment when a person experiences too much stress or trauma.

He was really messed up.

“That’s what happens when you’re a freak that sees ghosts.” He mumbled to himself, unnerved and restless after the thorough inspection he had given himself. He didn’t look in the mirror again as he dressed and left the bathroom.

* * *

Luke kept his promise. The rest of that afternoon and into the evening Cole stayed in his room learning everything that Luke could teach him about a handgun. Luke started from the beginning, meticulously going through every piece and part of the gun and quizzing Cole on their names and uses. It was good that Cole was a quick learner because they ended up spending two hours on simply cleaning, upkeep, and concealment. Luke taught him how to take the gun apart, how to reload it quickly, and how to remove fingerprints…. Then he made Cole do it over and over again, faster and faster, smoother and smoother, until Cole’s fingers were shaking with fatigue. It seemed like he would never be satisfied.

Then Luke moved on to actually shooting the gun.

It must have seemed strange to anyone who was watching to see the slender boy moving stiffly in a variety of stances without any audible instruction, holding the gun—safety on—pointed at the window. Of course, to Cole, he was listening to the calm, patient tone of Luke’s voice as he lectured. Cole was rather surprised by how good of a teacher the rough cop was.

“Always keep your legs slightly bent, shoulder width. Your right arm needs to be straight and as steady as you can hold it towards your target. Your best bet it to aim for the biggest target—the torso—and be sure to hold the gun a touch higher than where you want the bullet to hit.”

They worked on different stances—standing, crouching, and even running—for nearly two hours. Finally, as Lynn called Cole for dinner, Luke declared that there was really nothing else he could teach without Cole actually being able to shoot the gun.

“But that doesn’t mean that you’re getting out of practicing everything every day!” Luke called as Cole rushed gratefully from the room.

“Yeah, yeah, as if I need to know all of that stuff anyway!” Cole called back behind him as he took the steps two at a time. “You’re paranoid, Luke—!” Cole cut himself off abruptly as he rounded the corner into the kitchen and saw that his mom was not sitting at the small table alone.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Liked my writing? You might like my Tumblr. rosyourboat.tumblr.com


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